I’m missing you a lot today. Well, that implies I don’t miss you every day, which I do. But today it’s hitting a little harder I suppose. Maybe it’s the time of year? I know how much you love summer, with its sandy beaches, ice-cream-sticky fingers, and long, lazy nights fading into unclouded & radiant mornings.
Maybe it’s the fact that both your sisters were home last night talking about relationships and school and where the future might take them. And as I sat and smiled and thought about how incredible they both are, I found myself buckling under the weight of missing you.
Grief is like that, you know? Some days it’s as light as a feather, others it feels like a two-ton elephant sitting right on your chest. And I don’t say this to denounce, diminish or cast aside the sadness – because to feel is to remember, and I never want to forget you.
I just wish you’d been here last night.
In my mind’s eye, I see the three of you lounging around the living room, speaking over each other and (to great comic effect) competing for attention. I see good natured ribbing along with a healthy dose of genuine sibling advice and support being offered and accepted. I see three gentle spirits and bright shining stars rotating within my orbit, and I am temporarily happy and content. Then I remember you’re gone.
But you’re still a part of the big picture, I know. You’re my big picture and you always will be. I like to think of you as endless and transcendent now: a part of time, space, and matter. Your orbit is bigger; your star shines brighter, and your gentle spirit is finally at peace with everything around it.
Rest easy, sweet boy.