I think about all the beautiful music you missed
you, the soulful musician
the one who sang to midnight sprites
in the lonely dark of your room.
Can you hear the wonderful music from where you are now?
Does your soul ache to pluck that guitar? Or to impress your music onto piano keys that have long sat forlorn in that quiet room?
You left suddenly
and with nothing for us to pick up
Except our shattered lives.
To me there is no justice, no reason, no matter what she tells me I should believe.
Except that you are gone.
Did you believe that your life was that unimportant? That you meant nothing to us?
Time has made it bearable,
except the wound has not healed
Time always passes, and we are forced to get on with our lives in any haphazard way
Except that when we get on with it, it takes us on one sharp turn and then another winding road where you cannot see what will come up to meet you along the way.
I miss you.
I cannot talk to you across this great divide; I can’t reach out into your dimension and tell you that I’m sorry about many things; things that I did and things that I should have done for you and with you.
Your soul knows much more than I can express into words; it must feel the remorse in my heart, and the true, unaffected love I have felt towards you.
Once he said that you would open many doors for me; that you were taking me down unexplored paths in life’s secret garden.
I always remembered that and took your hand, so to speak, as you led the way.
You are a bright light, a shining star, my north node.
)