Do you ever crave pancakes? I'm sitting in a quiet house, it's late, a familiar Julia Roberts film is playing in the background, and I'm craving pancakes. Pancakes are the syrupy, pillow-ey equivalent to happiness.
Happiness can be elusive, as are pancakes at this hour. I'm sorry about both those things.
Tonight. My heart is longing. I'm so lonely. Have you ever been lonely? Have you ever been in a room full of people and felt entirely alone? Do you long to look across and lock eyes that know you? Wordless communication is my favorite. A simple look and a message is exchanged. Do you think it's possible to survive with half a heart? With half a heart that feels like two quarters held together by tape and glue? Sometimes my heart feels that way.
Oh, for the most part, everything is fine. I carry on about the daily business of living. I go to work. I listen to all the complaints. And there are ever so many. On all sides. I come home and offer support and encouragement to the men I'm raising. I make dinner. I do laundry. I check dates off the calendar. All the while, there are little holes in my heart that ache. This is the process of grief. It ebbs and flows. It rises and falls. We live and we ache. We cry and we laugh.
The season of parting seems never ending and yet, quick. Have four years past? Or two? Ten? Do you feel that time stands still or speeds up? The layers of life bury the ache, but it spills over from time to time and the past years of coping disappear completely.
I miss you, my beloveds. You cannot be replaced. Your value is immeasurable. I'm content to eat my sensitive feelers and mourn your loss.
Maybe one day I'll look up and see you. If only in my imagination. Our eyes will meet. Your heart will recognize mine. And happiness, however fleeting, will be ours to hold.
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