It's never enough, the last time you say good-bye. So many words, so many thoughts, all inadequate.
So final, it is. So immutable.
I took a walk this morning in the fog; down the hill, past the dew-speckled fields, through the gap in the hedge to the cemetery.
There were so many more flowers there today than usual. Because of Easter, I suppose... we hope for the resurrection; cling to the promise that we were not meant for death.
Walked past where my Daddy is buried... missed him again, all over again, hole in my heart aching for all that was, and all there was meant to be but won't be. Regretted the things I meant to say but never did... remembered the day we said good-bye.
the gypsy mama