I’ll write till I die with a pen in my frozen fingers and never find the words to express how anguish pales in comparison for how I feel about missing your childhood.
It’s past sad into a realm where violence is emotion, not an action. I feel the lighting strike my soul at what we lost on my account. I’ve spent years thinking and erasing the futility of my pain, it’s selfish, but hopelessly true.
I have no right to your sadness or forgiveness. I fell aimlessly grasping at what could have been while I free fell through memories only I share. On the other side of the veil I screamed at smoke figures of impossibility.
I’ll always be stuck in that space with your memory. The images are no longer important, the feelings are what haunts me. Indiscriminately they strike like streaks of lighting across the ocean between us, and I wonder if you see, or even look anymore.
I know it’s just selfish pain looking for broken souls in the darkness of past storms. I know you’ve tasted the sunshine of life and I watch now from afar as you soar through darkness and light seeing sunshine and moonlight with the same joy; and then I wonder if your journey ever really included me. Maybe I was just part of the scenery along your path to a higher journey.
It’s here I understand the age old adage, “if you set something free…..”. You may never return, and if that path is too dark, I’ll continue to look for you in the light of day and night knowing I once held the most precious thing in the world, my child, and now she is free!