Voices

It poured rain today. Fitting, in a way. I'd have expected nothing less for the memorial for Moe today. It was truly beautiful, it was breathtaking to see the number of lives she touched. Beautiful words were spoken, memories shared, tears shed. I thought I was going to pass out when Bells spoke, my chest was so tight I could barely breathe. I wanted nothing more than to wrap her up and steal her away from this awful nightmare. No 15 year old should have to go through this. Instead I brought her a pack of double stuf oreos, our favorite desert snack and one of her favorite treats.

My tenses are blurred, fluid. There is no strict line between past and present. Moe isn't gone, she never will be. I feel like she's just gone on a vacation or that I just have to run down to her office or out to the house for a family game night. She's always are the corner, just out of sight. She had a remarkable presence in life, an energy that can never be lost in death. She has become a voice in my head. I can hear her and see her, know her reactions and what she would say. Hear her laugh. It's strangely comforting. I know my guardian angel by name and hear her voice in my head and my heart. I can tell stories, share memories, but I can never truly explain just how special Monique is to me, how deeply she has touched my life. She will always be with me.

My deepest thanks to those who have left such encouraging and caring comments the past week. I haven't had the strength to respond, but please know that I have read each and every one of them and they have given me strength and each felt like a hug from a dear friend. And it may seem a ridiculous thing to admit, but yes, I have cried. Several times. Now, even. It is cleansing, it relieves the pressure in my head, I know it's part of the process.