An open letter to all of those I miss…
I think of you often. I wish you were still here. You were taken, unexpectedly or purposefully. You left, by accident or by choice. But however and whenever it happened…you are gone. Gone from my everyday. There is a void, an emptiness where you once were. The light of the world has dimmed a little each time with every loss. It’s not as vibrant, or peaceful. It spins on, but it is a lesser place for you not being in it. For some, for many, for…me.
I wish just one more time I could hear your laugh, your insane chuckling laugh, while you were up to no good. You know the one, don’t deny it. It meant trouble was under foot. Something we would joke about and never regret, even when we got caught. Lucky phones weren’t used so much for pictures back then! But it was all just fun, we never caused any harm. I miss that grin, that carefree, no fucks given attitude. Everything was okay, okay?
I miss the way you were rough and tumble, but underneath you had this big soft heart. I miss the way your Mum was so comfortable and happy in a room, until the heaviness of your absence filled it. I miss the cheeky, sassy quips, and the equally caring softness you had about you. I miss seeing the way you made a house a home, and completed a family so perfectly.
I miss your touch, your scent, the way you looked at me like I was the only one in the world, even if just in that moment. I miss craving each other, and the tense anticipation of our next meeting. The ridiculously long phone calls, where we talked about everything, and then some more. My person. I miss falling asleep against your chest, and waking to find myself still in your arms. I miss the way you set yourself free when we were together, as if nothing else in the world should matter…because it didn’t. It felt peaceful, and loved.
I miss your presence in my day. The way you always noticed the things nobody else did…a new perfume, shade of lip colour, haircut, tint in my sunglasses. I miss the random dinners, and cigarette breaks, chocolate visits and conversations. I miss the conversations, where you saw right through the bullshit and cut to the chase. You played a hand in my ‘self’ journey, of seeing that I was more. I couldn’t lie to you, not that I much tried. And I would listen through all the goddamn boring stock-market stories over again, if I could just have more time.
I miss the way you would curl up and sleep with me when I had nightmares, and I knew you were always there. I wish I had known you wouldn’t always be. So many things I would have said, but I didn’t…because I was so young…and I didn’t know. I miss that you called me by a name that nobody else did, and that it was said with pride and love every time. Like I was this special little thing that you loved, and wanted to show off to the world. You just wanted me to be who I was. I loved how you used to put on music and dance around the room, and how sometimes, I think…I hope…I see a little of you in myself. I loved how everyone loved you, and that you had so much passion for everything you did. And how you were so resilient, and creative, and warm. You wrote so beautifully, and my fingers trace those letters even now. I hope you are proud of who I have become, but some days I give myself more cause to wonder.
I miss that you tried so hard to do the right thing by us, and even though you could be so gruff and grumpy, there was no doubt you loved me. Your stubbornness and unwavering resolve made you tough, but she never failed to make you smile at the end of every day. You just lit up around her, and that shell softened. Not your hands though, they weren’t soft!…but your guidance and discipline helped make me who I am, and I am thankful. I miss the hearing the workbooks tromp down the hallway before even the morning light had, and the rumble of the truck engine pulling away. Still. Always.
If only they could see. Maybe they can. Goodnight Kids.