I miss you more with every day that goes by. Even though at the same time I do miss you a little bit less, because I grow more and more accustomed to the vacancy in my life and heart, the paradox of life brings about the ache of missing you penetrating just a little deeper as well.
Today I drove by your old house, just down the street from ours. Seeing someone else walking into it made tears spring up in my eyes. It should be you walking up those steps, grasping onto the handrail with one hand and holding the dog leash in the other. Not this stranger.
I still wear your perfume every day. Putting it on reminds me of hugging you, and when I leave it on my clothes I re-wear, like my winter sweaters, I'm reminded of the way your closet and bedroom always smelled when I walked in to put something away or stare at all your beautiful jewelry.
The various pieces of jewelry you've given me are still my favorites, even though I'm not a gold girl. I'll break all my personal style rules, just for you, when it comes to things you gave me or I inherited from you.
My birthday was almost a week ago now, but I can still remember the dull ache in my chest when the last present was handed to me and the words "Wait, it's not the last; you forgot Nana's" almost sprang out of my mouth. I never thought you wouldn't be around for this milemarker. On the evening of my birthday, I drank a glass of your old wine that my family had kept, just because I knew it was your favorite and it made me think of all those Thanksgiving and Christmas dinners with you, where the same wine was in your glass.
I know you've been dancing with Jesus for almost a year now. I'm sure that you are young and spry once again, and that seeing you again one day will be one of the most joyful reunions. I would never want to take you from the presence of the Lord, but I miss you.
I miss you more than these words could convey.
Yours always,
Cassian
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