It hurts like physical pain. Missing someone you will never see again is a hard road to travel.
It comes and goes.
It goes away for days and months.
It returns at the oddest times.
I'll be brushing my teeth and it's there. Not a bang or boom. Yet, not quiet. More like an ache - a yearning - an "Oh God, please" moment. A flash of the possibility that it didn't happen. They are around - not gone. I want so desperately to get on the phone for a chat. Drive over - drop in. I feel this is possible. I know it's not.
I then ponder the afterlife. I beseech the spirits. Give me a sign. Knock the shampoo off the shelf to prove - to prove what? Knock the shampoo off the shelf to say hello - to give me hope - to inspire me to figure this whole thing out. If you love me, you'll do it.
IF YOU LOVE ME YOU'LL DO IT!!!!!!
The shampoo remains stubbornly on the shelf. You don't love me.
YOU DON'T LOVE ME!
This extreme yearning exhausts me. So, I give it up. The longing subsides. Sanity rules. I'm back to my senses. It's mostly forgotten - for now. The yearning becomes a dull low-grade pang. That, too, will subside. I won't feel this way for a long time. And that's a blessing of sorts.
It's what I need to live a sane centered life.
These episodes are like visits - like holy hauntings.
Perhaps they are the sign. Not the shampoo bottle.
The yearning, the missing - that's the "hello, I'm here - see you later"
“Give sorrow words; the grief that does not speak knits up the over wrought heart and bids it break.”
― William Shakespeare