You know I love talking to you.
I love telling you all of my thoughts.
It’s as if we met before.
In some other life.
Under different circumstances. Maybe at the beach.
Or in my neighborhood passing by.
In a simple setting with the sun shining and with a light heart.
In that life I did not lose a daughter, or a husband.
Nor did you.
In that life we met by chance not because of grief but because of life.
We ran into each other just like people do.
What would we say to each other?
What would we laugh about.
I would tell you that I love photography and hanging at the beach.
I would tell you that my dream is to be an artist and sell my paintings to galleries.
You would smile and you would be so happy to have met an artist.
In that life, grief would meet me much later on.
Maybe in my 60’s or 70’s and she would not take my husband and daughter first.
Maybe something easier.
I imagine a life like that, sometimes.
I imagine that for you too.
The sun shinning at your happy face.
Walking your dog, thinking about making dinner.
Telling me about sweet nothings.
But it was not meant to be.
Not in this life anyway.
In this life we talk about the big things.
We talk about pain,
loss and starting over.
I think about your new beginnings.
Your second firsts.
Just like I think about mine.
Maybe it’s not too late to paint, go to the beach and talk about sweet nothings.
But this time we would tell each other how grateful we are for the sun above us, that special walk on the beach.
And the chance to begin again.
It’s ok friend, how we met. As long as you still say yes to that walk on the beach.