Alone I mourn your loss, in the quiet of my own space. I try to push away the regrets, the faults, my fallible humanness and I am feeling sorry for myself. Why do I feel so lost? In the selfish way that they want to miss you, they forget that I mourn you too. They know that I am not to blame yet they need someone to direct their pain. So I steped up, my dear. I let them take, and give, and hate, and hurt. I've been beaten up but what does it matter anymore? I still can't bring you back and neither will their pain. But doing so doesn't honor you.
How have I honored you since then? Not enough. I am afraid, that I don't celebrate life enough as I should. I am a coward who just the other day wished aloud that it should have been me rather than you. How disappointed you would have been to hear me: the one who once made you smile.
I am sorry, my dear. It is just a weak moment and I just miss you. I miss your love.