Monday, February 12, 2024

Are You Dancing?

Hey kiddo,

For over 13 years I ended each night by telling you I love you and tucking you in (sometimes several times). Somehow I need to continue that, in whatever way I can. 

I go by your grave almost every night, just to see the lights shining above you. It should start getting lighter at night, but right now it's still pretty dark by the time I get there.

A coworker asked about you today, and me, and how I was doing. 

I told her I'm mostly okay, most of the time. I get a few good days and then it's rough again.

But the pain and sorrow is all for me, not you. Does that make me selfish? Maybe...

I know it was your time. You were amazing. You held on to the end, much longer than any of us had any right to hope for.

She mentioned that someone told her it gets bad when the cards stop coming because it means others have all moved on.  As I thought about that, I realized it's been quite some time since one came, and it made me a little sad, because she's right.

And then when I got home, there was a beautiful card from your cardiology team. I don't know if people realize how touching it is to get these notes. I know I used to think it was "too late" or whatever, and it would be too weird to send a card. Now I know that's not true. 

I cherish the evidence that you're loved and missed. 

Today I was looking through old blog posts. I seem to be doing that a lot lately, reaching for you through memories. Anyway, I found this one from 2017 when I crammed two weeks worth of heart advocacy/information into one post. The dance at the end made me laugh. You could have rivaled Elvis with those hips! 

I hope you dance among the stars. 

I love you. 

Death is your dancing soul returning to the heavens.

~Terri Guillemets

No comments:

Post a Comment