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You know when you hear an old favorite song and it fills you with a warm, happy feeling at the familiar tune? Yeah, that’s what listening to her laugh did to me, and despite it being new, it feels like my heart knows its tune already. I’m in trouble.
You’re just going to steal my pen, then?” She turns to me with a teasing smirk, a glint in her eyes. “Yup. I’ll think of it and remember the time my best friend missed me so much, he pretended I forgot a pen just to come and see me.” I laugh. “You couldn’t spare me?” “Nope, I like teasing you. And if you want to see me, you can just ask. That’s what friends do,” she quips, tugging on my arm to get me to walk with her toward the front doors.
Grief tends to remind us of what we lost, but sometimes a little gratitude helps you to remember what you have and to be thankful for it right now.
Little does she know I’ve imagined her as mine more times than I’d like to admit.
You’re all I can think of, from when I wake up to when I go to sleep. No one and nothing has ever consumed me the way that you do. ”
The gold medal is placed around my neck, causing tears to cascade down my cheeks. I may look silly to the thousands of people watching from home, but I don’t care. They don’t know my story. I bend down, pressing the gold medal into the tattoo on my inner ankle, whispering to myself, “We made it, Mom. We fucking made it.”
😭
