Offering so much to the world or wanting to but your sense of worth is void. I last seen you the smell of alcohol was apparent, from your breath, seeping from your pores. Hugging you I questioned if it would be the last time. It was the same with Val. Clinging to you both I hoped I could give you life, and invisible gift to life long enough to forgive yourself, to accept Him, to be happy.
You didn't make it to the funeral on time and I know why. I understand. I was happy you showed. I actually felt bad for those you left behind. I know the last two hours were torture for them having to hear you say you needed to go, the cries of grief and the stories you must have told about how much you loved him, how much he loved you. He did, that no one can deny.
I cry for you as a mother cries for her child. You haven't shown to pick up your letter. You, the only one, he left something tangible here on this earth. You haven't read it yet. I understand it's too much for you to grasp. It's emotional context was wishing you life, love and happiness. Wanting you to find yourself and stop giving yourself. He expressed his love for you and the love was to let you go so he could find happiness and peace. Letting you go has been a problem for you. Always believing people let you go. They have to. Words are not enough for you. Words of assurance and love are heard by you, but not your heart. That mind of yours needs adoration and you go here and there, as bird, perching here and there sitting pretty and singing your songs.
To those who wouldn't know. He loved writing, he loved music. He was gone and I heard a song. It was as if he wrote it for you, but it was not his voice. He left you a song that you have heard but do not know that not only did he leave you a letter, he left you a song. The words are his desire for you and what it always has been. #fistfulloftears