One Month Without You

My darling Sugar,

Today marks one full month since you passed.  Each day does not get easier.  It feels like just yesterday we were in the hospital, fighting, hoping we could turn it around. It also feels like a lifetime since we embraced and exchanged I love yous.

I walked the streets in our neighbourhood today and I was a myriad of emotions; envious of the young families I passed, annoyed by those complaining about things that just don’t matter and in shock that people passed me without seeing my sadness, not knowing how empty and broken I feel.

This journey has taught me to be so very thankful for our daughter, and the people in our lives who truly care and have been there for us. It has also taught me to truly not sweat the small stuff and to live each day to the fullest and tell the people around me just how much they are loved. 

As the days, weeks, months and eventually years go by, I don’t expect to miss you any less but I do hope the ache in my heart and lump in my throat dissipate.

I hope that you’re able to see us and see just how bright, funny and beautiful our daughter is already growing to be.  At only 19 months, she seems to comprehend all of this more than she should – often looking at me and saying “Daddy?  Miss Daddy.  Miss him.”  You will always be alive in her.

We love you.

Your Sweetness and Cuteness

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3 thoughts on “One Month Without You

  1. In the early days of my grief this poem found me… And it brought me great comfort and reminded me to look for what little beauty in life I could find.
    Before you know what kindness really is
    you must lose things,
    feel the future dissolve in a moment
    like salt in a weakened broth.
    What you held in your hand,
    what you counted and carefully saved,
    all this must go so you know
    how desolate the landscape can be
    between the regions of kindness.
    How you ride and ride
    thinking the bus will never stop,
    the passengers eating maize and chicken
    will stare out the window forever.
    Before you learn the tender gravity of kindness,
    you must travel where the Indian in a white poncho
    lies dead by the side of the road.
    You must see how this could be you,
    how he too was someone
    who journeyed through the night with plans
    and the simple breath that kept him alive.
    Before you know kindness as the deepest thing inside,
    you must know sorrow as the other deepest thing.
    You must wake up with sorrow.
    You must speak to it till your voice
    catches the thread of all sorrows
    and you see the size of the cloth.
    Then it is only kindness that makes sense anymore,
    only kindness that ties your shoes
    and sends you out into the day to mail letters and purchase bread,
    only kindness that raises its head
    from the crowd of the world to say
    It is I you have been looking for,
    and then goes with you everywhere
    like a shadow or a friend.
    —Naomi Shihab Nye

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