I used to rub my stomach and whisper to you.
“Hey there baby girl. What are you doing in there?”
“Hi sweetheart, I can’t wait to meet you.”
So many moments imagining what it would be like to say hello. To see your face. To welcome you into the world.
Days spent curled up in bed, my hand where I imagined your hand to be–waiting for the day when your fingers would curl around mine.
Lingering in daydreams of what my life would be like when we finally said hello.
Never knowing that we would too quickly say goodbye.
All I have left are those days full of wishes. Those hopes that shriveled up when I learned you were gone.
That’s all I have left of you.
Memories never made–only imagined. Moments never spent–only longed for.
Because when we said hello, we also said goodbye.
I never imagined it would be this way.
You, no longer living and me, longing for a life with you here.
This was not what I was waiting for.
I was waiting for birthdays and holidays. First steps and first words. A million moments both extraordinary and mundane. I was waiting for a life.
Instead, you died.
And when you died, I realized that I waited your whole life just to say goodbye.
Saying goodbye to you meant saying goodbye to the life you never lived.
Instead of birthdays and holidays–anniversaries of the day you died.
Instead of first steps and first words–stillness and silence.
Instead of a million moments lived–a million moments lived without.
You see, I thought about a life with you in it, but I never thought I’d have to live that life without you.
This life I’m living without you, it’s cruel and it’s painful. But the truth is–it’s ours. It may not be what I wanted for us, but it’s what we’ve got.
And I know we’ll make the most of it.
Because I waited all this time to know you and you will always be worth the wait.