I wonder where you are now. If you’re playing cards in heaven, talking the ears off of every stranger you meet up there, filling the skies with the light from your smile.
I wonder if you are proud of me, would be proud of me, if you were still alive.
It’s been a long road without you here. I know I wasn’t the only one hurt by your passing. I know it’s selfish to even think of my suffering as comparable to what others closer you were feeling, and still feel. But sometimes when I watch the waves crash over the rocks on the shore, or follow the seagulls as they duck behind the clouds as I sit on that little hill by my apartment, I wonder what you’d say to me, if you could.
I wonder, when it rains and I wake in the middle of the night to the drops hitting my windowpane, if it’s you reminding me I am here, and I am loved.
I think about you when it’s cloudy. When the sky is gearing up for a beautiful sunset, but the color has hidden beneath the clouds, waiting patiently. I think about how you were always so calm, so serene, even in your final moments. I think about how you used to drive me crazy, but how it’s so true—we always miss the little things the most when they’re gone.
Sometimes I wonder what you think of me. Of my one-bedroom apartment by the beach. Of my blankets sprawled across my bed and notebooks of messy handwriting filling every empty shelf.
I wonder if you’d forgive me for the ways I didn’t love you as much as I should have when you were here.
I hope you’d see how much I do now.
I hope to honor your memory in the way I live and love.
And I hope to make you proud, even if you’re no longer here to see it. •
- Thought Catalog -