I’m starting to hate this city. Every corner has a memory of you, and all I can think about lately, is what you were thinking when you drove around in it.

We made so many memories here. We had so many things to do, and we did so many things together. I know there are a lot of people that have memories with you, in various parts of this place, but none of them shared you like I did. None of them really knew the person behind the kindness. As much as I am jealous of all the time they spent with you, I am more satisfied with our relationship. It wasn’t long enough, obviously, but it was deeper, and more intimate than we had with anyone else. I know you know this.

The darkness is caving in. I should know better than to expect people to give me a break about things, but to them, you’ve been gone almost four months – I should be over it by now. I should be long past the initial pain and grief. I can’t believe how stupid people can be. I can’t believe how far beyond their thinking the actual length of the grief journey can be, and how it doesn’t just end because it ends for them. The pain of you being gone is just as fresh, just as real as it was the day you left. Even more so, because I’m coming out of the fog, more and more very day. With every passing month, I realize the coldest reality, and it doesn’t release me the way people wish it would. It simply slaps me harder. There is no peace.

I don’t think of you with fond reverie, or smile when I think about our daughter. Instead, I am constantly bombarded with flashbacks of our life together, in every place. It’s amazing how many places we found ourselves in, or how many times we drove a particular freeway. We were everywhere, and now, we are nowhere. 

 And when I look at your daughter, and see how she can be so much like you, it breaks my heart. She will never know you the way Aurora and I knew you. She will only know you through us, and although I know God promised to take care of that, I still feel completely abandoned. I still feel like it’s so unfair.

I drive around this town at night, and remember our “four corners”, and although no one knows what I’m referencing, I still remember it like it was yesterday. I still hear your melodic voice in my head, and remember the things you said. I still remember you.

And I don’t want to forget. But that means I won’t be able to allow certain things in my life anymore. I don’t know if that makes me selfish, or evil or whatever euphemisms people decide to call me, but I don’t care. I am still yours, in my heart. And even if I’m altered, from the arrogant, self-righteous woman I used to be, I know you would still love me. Even as this new person I’ve become, I still love you.

I realize that cutting things out of my life now is probably the best thing for me to do. I realize that clinging to my faith with everything I have, instead of just 75 percent is probably my greatest asset. And I realize that the closer I get to the Almighty, the more persecuted and abandoned I will be.

But someday, that won’t be the case. Someday, He will use this maidservant in a remarkable way, and although my imperfections will be thrown in my face all the time, I won’t even see them. I’ll be that much closer to you, and the Glory I look so forward to seeing. Someday, you will come for me, and our girls. And it will be all worth it.

Someday, I’ll find the home I lost. Someday, we will be reunited. As homeless as I feel, I still believe that I am yours. And that you’re waiting, with a place prepared for me.