Falling tears

June 24, 2010

I just wanted to see her picture. To reassure myself that she wasn't a dream. As if the sadness in my heart doesn't remind me of that every day. But still, I wanted something physical. There is a particular picture of her that I love. I love it because she looks like a living baby to me. It's not that I want to fool myself that she was alive. That's not why I like it. It's that when she looks alive I can focus on her and not on the fact that she was dead. I looked at the soft skin of her shoulder and wanted desperately to kiss her. The tears dropped down my cheeks. I didn't even realize they had been building inside me but as they released I felt myself open up and relax. I let myself feel my love for her. I didn't keep it at bay. Along with the love comes the pain, but I let myself feel that too. She was a little person, I thought. Sometimes I really do feel like she was a dream and I'm almost surprised at the fact that she wasn't.

I analyzed her features. Everything about her face was Jeremy. Everything. But darn if that little girl didn't have my hands. I could almost feel her skin against my lips. But I never kissed her. I had a daughter that I never kissed. Oh that makes me ache inside.

My second favorite picture is of Jeremy holding her. You can see how tiny she was in that picture. Jeremy is smiling a sad and tired smile. And this time I noticed that his eyes were wet. I had never noticed that before. My heart broke for him; for the strength that he maintained for me, the gentility he possessed, the exhaustion he must have felt. His eyes in that picture said so much. So much. And my tears kept falling.