… On Our Third Christmas Apart

I called mom today, and she was sad. Justifiably. And I thought of you, and how I missed you.

I think of you, often in the most random of times. Sometimes predictably but mostly not. And sometimes I’ll watch films we watched over and over together.

And I remember all the places you laughed.

That’s probably what I miss the most is your laugh. And your perspective. I will still forget on occasion that I cannot call. And your voice right now would be just wonderful. The world feels like it’s on fire, and it’s really hard sometimes. Day-to-day. It’s brutally hard sometimes.

On some level I know you know all of this. But I wanted to write this down, to you and perhaps for both of us. So maybe in some time I can come back to it, and not just recognize healing but also remember how real the pain was and how real the love was.

And is. Miss you… more than you know.

Ingrid

 

 

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