Words Turned to Tears

The past few months have been void of words, yet full of tears.  For the first time in my life, I've longed to write, tried to write--my fingers have been poised over my keyboard ready to write--just to release some of the pent up pain--like the steam in a boiling, screaming kettle--but words have failed me, my words have turned to tears.  The screaming steamy pain remains pent up in my heart and soul.

You died.

You really died.

You are no longer here in this world in which we all remain.  The sheer brutality of that reality makes it difficult to breathe some days.  The fact that I'll never see you again--speak to you again--text you again.  The fact we'll never sit and talk face to face, that I'll never again (this side of heaven) receive one of your famous bear hugs, the fact you'll never speak "Spanish" to my girls again or meet your newest, chunkiest nephew.  It's all too much.

I grieve what I lost--you--but I am also grieving the future we'll never have together.  All the memories we were supposed to make--all the things I was supposed to get to see you do--It won't ever happen.  THIS is our new reality.  A life without you.  A life without your laughter, a life without your smile.  A life where our words have turned to tears, tears in which somedays we just drown.