It’s real.

All it took was being in your room and not seeing you there. It’s funny how people process things differently. At different times, in different ways. How the sun still shines without you, but the breezes are cooler now that you’re gone.

We visited your grave today. And even though I was there the day you were buried – for me, today was the day you officially left. The patch of grass above you was still so fresh, and the Earth below still damp as if it hadn’t fully absorbed everyone’s tears from a week ago.

Jason told your brother it’s more frustrating than anything, and he agreed. In complete silence I agreed too. Because I couldn’t see you. I couldn’t hear you. I couldn’t hug you. Your body was there, but I knew you were somewhere else. The wind carried our conversation into the trees, so I looked there, but nothing.

When I couldn’t take it anymore, I visited Mateo. He’s right across the street. I’m sure the two of you have met already. He looks exactly like Adonis, and if he’s anything like his mother, he’s probably center of attention at all times. I told him to tell you hello, and let you know that we all miss you so much. I asked if he could watch you, and make sure you weren’t lonely because you’re still new at “this”. I basically told him all the things I wanted to tell you but didn’t, for fear of crying in front of everyone. It didn’t work, Ren saw the tears from behind my sunglasses. I knew she wouldn’t believe I was just fixing my earring.

The thing is, I was never one to believe in the afterlife. I’m not as religious or spiritual as I wish I could be. I wouldn’t say I’m cynical, just realistic. I talk to the sun and cry to the moon, but am not sure if anyone hears me. And to be quite honest with you, I was feeling a little stupid for talking to a headstone. What if things don’t happen for a reason? What if you die, and that’s it? What if you can’t hear us?

It’s all pretty uncertain. But if there’s one thing you’ve taught me, it’s to have HOPE. Your story gave everyone hope, and inspired complete strangers to love harder than they’ve ever loved before. So I do hope everything happens for a reason. I hope there is life after death. Most of all, I hope you can hear me right now.

I love you Gail, and I miss you so, so much. At least now you’ll have time to catch up on the blog lol.

This entry was posted in Life. Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to iHope.

  1. Xochitl says:

    I was the exact same way when my uncle passed. It never felt real until I physically saw something that symbolized he was literally gone. Also this line, ” I talk to the sun and cry to the moon, but am not sure if anyone hears me”-for lack of a better phrase, I feel you. This is exactly what I’ve been feeling except I never figured out how to put it into words. It’s nice to hope they can hear us though.:) Wishing you and her family the best. It’s alright to just be straight up sad and don’t forget it’s most definitely alright to cry.

  2. Pingback: what could you possibly title a post about not wanting to masturbate in front of a sweater belonging to someone that passed? | Dear Abi | girlsarethenewboys.com

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