My dear Minx,
Each day I creep closer and closer to the day where none of the cells in my body will have ever known you. For some reason that seems significant to me. Already it is hard for me to remember the sound of your voice, the touch of your hand, and the smell of your skin. I remember your face, because of all the pictures that I still look at every once in awhile. I remember the scar around your waist. I remember your sweetness.
I am far enough out that there is not enough information for me to assume what you would have thought of my life as it is now. But, it is your death that forced me to change, forced me to examine what I found important, forced me to look into the void and deal with what that meant to me. I do no longer see it as entirely a negative thing – if you were alive, then I would not wish you dead just for the sake of my own growth – but more as something that gave the me I am now space to come out and spread their wings.
I am happy these days. I have found love in a few places that I never thought imaginable. Deep, sweet love. Love of a depth and breadth I hadn’t ever imagined before. I wish you could meet them, see what joy they bring into my life, witness the magnitude of the love in my life. But, my dear sweet Minx, that will never happen. So I guess I will have to settle for luxuriating in that love, washing my dears with my tears of extraordinary joy, and reflecting it back, whenever I can. My loves have challenged me and I have grown, grown beyond the extent that I did because of grief. I love who I have become. I love the person I get to be with my partners.