It is an anchor in my heart.
I took on the burden of everyone. You and us and them. Everyone that left and everyone that never reached out. I took it as my own and held it and tried to keep it quiet. I was deeply and wildly lonely for you.
In my brightest and happiest dreams, I think that you can see me and that I make you proud. I hope that I shine like a jewel in your eye and all is right and well. Every time my hands create something out of nothing, I think that I’m honoring you. That’s why I keep a picture of you in my kitchen. I look at that image of us and I think, ‘This is what she would have done.’
And I know it’s true because it always works. Just like you always worked. Never sitting, always fretting. The smell of the kitchen and clean laundry and starch and your soap. I can picture your hands, slightly knotted, feverishly working away to feed your family. This is what love looks like to me.
There is a piece of you that I hold that very few know. All those nights spent, feeling the safest and most content I have ever felt. Those moments settle in my heart and slow my world down for those few minutes before I fall asleep. And sometimes, I feel you there.
You are my deepest love.
My greatest hope.
And my dearest memory.