You're Here, But You're Not
What do you do when what you know, becomes what you knew? How do you move on from something that wasn’t supposed to end? Is there a secret to the sadness? Something that’ll make it easier? I don’t know. For my part, I know so little. I know that I’m here and they’re not. They’re not dead, mind you. They’re just not here in my life anymore. I’m not in their’s anymore either. It’s for the best, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt. I’ve lost a friend to death. In a way, that’s a similar kind of hurt. But there’s a finality to that. A closure that their time came and passed. When the separation with the living occurs, no matter what words are shared - There’s a lingering fear of 'what if?' What if I run into them? What if they try to talk to me? I don’t want that. I think I’d try to say, ‘no, I don’t want to speak with you. The choice was made to separate. So, we will be separate.' There’s a peace to that thought. I find solace in it. I find stillness an...
