More than a Memory.

It's not always sad. There is a deep joy when I remember you, when I think about your arms around me, the words we shared, the things we loved together - coffee, dessert, hairspray, Gilmore Girls, The Sound of Music. 

I am not always afraid. When K told us she was pregnant last month and that this time the baby is healthy, my heart leapt with joy and I heard you say, This is possible; it will all be okay. 

It isn't always about loss. My heart is full with you - your affirmations, your laughter, your gentle words, even your tough love. You loved me for me, and maybe this is why I don't hate my body : you taught me that life was too short to starve myself of it. 

I am not always alone. When I talk with my hands or choose what to wear in the morning or glance at a passing reflection, it's that same conversation we always had, only quieter. 

It isn't always past tense. We are more than memories, more than dust and bones and the dirt we return to. You are faith and hope and love present tense, a glimmer of joy in every living moment. 

It’s true. I look at my life every day and think, I’m lucky. I am blessed. Our short lives - lived well - are better than the long lives we might have wasted in different circumstances. Fifty years of Grace is better than a hundred years of mere existence.