Today has been a day of alone. For days now the pain has been outside of my bones, slicing through every part of me, I can’t find a way to put it back inside.
I reached out to all 4 of them and him, they can usually help me take control of it but I found myself unable to respond for hours on end. They couldn’t know, they couldn’t help. I’m alone in this pain, as hard as they try to make it feel different.
I wanted to call you, to message you, to be with you, hear your lulling Northern Irish accent. A lullaby to help me finally sleep. It’s been so long since I heard it, a part of you lost to us both months before you were truly gone.
Now I lie here alone, the world in bed with their special people, just the bones of me trying to rest. It feels like I’m searching for you always, I don’t think I can truly rest until I’ve found you in the nothingness.
I read Dear Cynthia again today. I wish that I could feel your presence, he describes it beautifully as a true visitation, his son walking beside him always, guiding him. I need that, I need you. I just can’t find you anywhere. You are gone and I am alone.