Sara – it hasn’t been that long since you’ve left us. 11 and a half weeks. I’ve spent most of it trying to figure out what to do with myself and how I’m supposed to live without you. If you were to come visit right now – it really wouldn’t look that different. It seems strange, because it seems like EVERYTHING should be different with you gone. Your clothes are still in the closet, even – I haven’t been able to bring myself to do anything with them yet. I did replace the floor in the sunroom – I know you would approve of what I had done.
So, I’m going to close my eyes and imagine what I might want to show you if you were to come visit at some distant point in the future:
I’d start at our house – I think for now, I want to stay here. Right now it’s still the same, but I hope to resurrect the garden in the front yard and transform the backyard like we’d talked about – put in a little meditation area, and fence off where the dogs can do their business.
Right now the house across the street is vacant – the family that was there moved out suddenly at some point after you died. I’m not sure exactly when – it’s been such a fog. Maybe I’ll get to know whoever moves in. If we became friends, maybe I would introduce you to them – we don’t really have any friends in the neighborhood right now.
If my brother and sister-in-law are still living in the nearby apartment where the moved after you died, I’d want to take you by there. It’s so close and such a cute little place!
I hope to have another child, eventually – a sibling for George. I would take you to his or her favorite park, which I’m sure will have awesome swings or maybe a really cool slide.
I would take you to the botanic gardens – You and I never made it there together, but it’s always evolving through the seasons and the years and is somewhere I want to visit more.
I would take you to that spot on Highway 36 where you come up over a hill and can suddenly see Boulder and the mountains and it made you grin every time – it’s your favorite view in the region.
In reality, I don’t know how things are going to keep evolving, or what is going to change, or what my life will look like now that you’re gone. There are so many unknowns and your loss is so new.
At some point, though, I will find a new place in which I find joy and peace and can just be. A place that feels like a sacred place, whether there are people around or not. This is where I absolutely would take you… I just don’t know where that is yet.
Note: this was written based on a writing prompt provided to me through a paid course I am taking. I am not including the prompt, because the daily prompts are a critical component of that course.