Jan. 15, 2000
Your girl was just 1 month old,
and the boys were 10 and 7.
When our world turned upside down I clung to the concept of heaven.
“I’ll try,” you said. “Please try” I cried “Just let me know you’re there.”
But never a concrete sign to be sure,
and that is tough to bear.
Years pass, and life has a wonderful way of recalibrating, and it once again makes sense.
The sorrow is consistently palpable,
but now it is not as intense.
The realities that come along with grief include noticing small less notable signs.
The sounds, the smells, the wind so soft, a dragonfly on my hand.
That thread of faith that it’s you, I grasp on to if it is only a strand.
She is 24 now, your little girl and the boys are 34 and 31.
Some mixed-up, painful, healing, and growing trips around the sun.
Keep trying Mario from wherever you are, here in the air, or above.
We keep you alive, and we always will.
“it’s your love”
