You Should Be Here

I thought of you today. I thought of you in a way that erased nearly 16 years of evolving grief since I got the call you had died. Somehow I managed to swallow the tears until I was alone in the car on the way home. 3+ hours later..... By the grace of God I go.

You see, I was killing time before the party wandering around the kitschy/shabby chic department of a store and letting the beauty of some of the items roll around in my soul. And I paused, and I wondered:

- Will anyone ever care enough about me to take the time to not only understand on what levels and why certain things like this bring me joy, but understand it enough to appreciate that side of who I am?

My soul paused about the time I wanted to say to myself - because I've never mattered that much to anyone that they took the time to open up that side of me - and I stopped myself from saying that because it was not 100% true.

You did. You were the only one of two people who have ever loved me and cared enough about me to get to that level.

And then a song came on.... one of the songs that has lyrics that reminds me of you....... not 15 seconds later.

🎵"And if I could turn back the clock, I'd make sure the light defeated the dark, I spend every hour of every day keeping you safe. I'd climb every mountain, swim every ocean, just to be with you....."🎵 Somehow I swallowed my tears.

About 20 minutes later I'm at the party and go to the cooler to see what's available and right on top is this bottle. Our inside joke. One of many, but a central foundation of what brings you to my mind if I have not thought often of you for a while.

Strike number three...... still swallowing my tears..... I quietly toasted it to you and drank it, hoping my tears would stay down with every sip.

You should be here. Maybe not with me, but at least physically still here on the earth laughing and setting the example of what it is to love to everyone around you.

You and I were cut from the same cloth - God somehow decided to give us so much love that it would eat us alive if we didn't extend it overflowing in it's generosity to anyone possible around us.

Like an artist who's work consumes them if they can't get it out of their soul fast enough to where they can't eat or drink until it's pushed out of their soul - such is the level of love and kindness we were born with.

And somehow, God dropped us in each other's life.

You are the only one who's ever even come close to out-loving me, and I may very well still have every single gift you gave me - except the roses from that Valentine's Day that I had dried and kept in the house all these years. My fuzzy night fury decimated them in his first few weeks of adoption to the Acre.

I have endless more words I can say. But in six weeks or so I should be at your graveside for the first time in 15 years. My girlfriend said she'd take me over there while I'm in town - and save me an empty Heineken bottle so I don't have to bring one in my luggage.

I pray when your parents stop by your grave the morning after I'm there, because I'm sure they still go at least once a day to say hello to you, they will see the empty bottle filled with daisies. I pray God will remind them of our inside joke and know that I was able to get back to say hi, and have a long conversation and cry next to the saying 'The only thing bigger than his feet, was his heart' that's on the backside of your headstone.

Because it was an honor to be loved by you. And I miss you as much right now as the moment I hung the phone up with Sherri when she called to tell me you had died.

©Kristen Garcia 05-2019