I miss you. There is no other way to say that I want what can not be. I miss you. Achingly. I am haunted. the grief keeps coming, Smashing through the levees my mourning built.
Bittersweet: When my grandmother was dying, she called my name. For days, she called my name. I never knew how deep her love was. We could never figure out how to say it. And the knowing came right at the edge of nothingness.
