Someway. Somehow.

There are days, more than few, that I simply cannot grasp the concept of death. The reality of it. The finality of it. The depth of the scar it has left. The impression it has stamped on the rest of my days. How can five simple letters form to make a word that holds so much meaning?
In truth, I have become a master at slapping a smile on my face and going about my days. I know enough to tell people that I am "doing okay" when they ask. In reality it could very well be the same moment that I am reminding my lungs to take in breath. I don't feel it has gotten easier. The missing hasn't receded. I miss him more this day than I did yesterday and the day before. It still breaks me to know that his life was cut so short and that I will never understand why...not in this life anyway...
I went home last weekend to visit my mom and my brother. As we pull into the house, his car is missing. I immediately tell myself that he had to run out to work or that he is on his way back from the cities buying groceries at the Italian Deli he loved so much. As the minutes tick by, I wait. He never comes. I climb into bed with a heavy body. All I wanted that night is to sit across from him and tell him about all of the big plans I have for my future. Instead, they swirl throughout my head until eventually I drift off to sleep. The next day, we go boutique shopping. My entire family meets and tears start to sting my eyes. One person is missing. I say to myself what I repeat 100 times a day..."not now Krysta"...My mom mentions that he would have loved to have been with us this day and we laugh at how he would've come home with soap and candles. We found drawers and drawers of soap and candles after he left...
The next day my mom drops me off at the airport through hurried goodbyes. I don't want her driving home in the dark and it's supposed to rain soon. I tell her to just drop me off at the door. I am reminded of the last time I was home before he left. They would stand and wave until I got through security. That time, for reasons unknown to me, I tell them not to wait. I remember my dad's face when I said it. And so they left and I watched them go and I felt a twinge of pain in not having them there to wave me through...
So, this day, I look and she is not there and neither is he and all I can think is how I wish, so much, how I would give anything to have him standing there. Tears fall as I pass through the gate and the woman says, "Goodbyes are always hard." If she only knew.
So I continue walking...the whole while talking to him telling him how much I miss and love him... how I wish there was a way to bring him back to us. For a split millisecond, life seems simple again...in that second my only hope is that someway, somehow...he can hear me...


* Milwaukee, 2007. One of my most favorite pictures. *