My heart is aching this morning. It has been raw for the last few weeks. In 9 days, it's going to be 4 years since you died. My whole body remembers and is traveling through heartbreaking dates on the calendar, one after the next. It was 2 days ago in 2021 that we had our last hug in the entrance before you left for Kingston. I remember it so clearly. It was a long one, we both cried and slow danced to the music playing in the kitchen. Then we laughed loudly about how we were acting like it would be the last time we would ever see each other again. I really didn't know it was going to be the last time. I probably wouldn't have been able to let you go if I did.

I can't help but feel that our souls knew all too well though. Intertwining white and blue lights anchored to our time-limited bodies, swaying to the music. Knowing that we will never be apart, but that our human hearts will shatter nonetheless in your wake. Even though I did believe that we are only in this life for a short time before we go back 'home', I didn't want to remember it when I learned that you had already left. It was the furthest thing from a consolation prize. I wanted to keep watching you grow up and blossom. It felt like a cruel plot twist in my soul's journey. I'm grateful that with time, I mostly live in the knowing that we are never apart, and that it's only a matter of time before I will be home with you again.

Regardless, I must keep existing in this human form, in a world that doesn't like to think or talk about death. I notice that people don't ask me anymore how I am feeling in my grief for you. I suppose they worry that it will upset me or remind me of the hole in my heart. They see me smiling and leading a meaningful life - why bring it up? But there isn't a moment that I don't remember or feel distracted enough to have you out of my mind. You are always there my girl, your smile, your radiance, your laugh. With the absence of these conversations, it feels like you are fading further and further away from this existence outside of my heart.

Recently, I've developed somatic pain in my throat every time I miss you. It feels cruel because the emotional pain of missing you already surpasses my threshold. I've been trying different things to care for it, knowing that Mother's Day and June 9th were fast approaching. I went for a massage as a place to start. My massage therapist lost her husband several years ago. She listened to me as I cried on her table. I shared about how it feels like your existence is fading away. Her eyes teared up and she said she could totally relate. She said that she sometimes feels like the "keeper of her husband's existence." Am I the keeper of yours my love? That feels like a crushing responsibility.

I've been soothing this fear with my resolve to keep writing, to assure that you are not forgotten; that my pain is not forgotten. I've written about how I'm rising up, how I've awakened, and how I am the most alive I have ever felt since I survived the reality of you no longer being here. While this is all true, I am still experiencing great sadness at the same time. No amount of feeling alive and awake can soften the painful longing for your soft skin, your smell, and your sweaty palms. Nothing replaces the feeling of your long blond hair brushing up on my face and neck when you hugged me. Or how dainty I felt in your arms when you towered 6 inches above me.

There are no words that can describe how deeply I miss you my sweet Kamila. I'm not sure how I'll make it to the end of this pilgrimage but I always do, so I'll put my faith in my own history and keep moving forward - one breath at a time. Can't wait to see you again my love.