We watched those white balloons released into the air on Saturday and I posed the question “How do those parents bear it?” Was it not clear that it was rhetorical? That I did not need the answer?
I described the gentle lapping of the grief tides this year. Was that not enough? I did not need to feel the crash of the surf to understand the power of the waves.
I ran yesterday, up a long, long hill, fighting against the fears in my stomach. On the return trip, the setting sun lit up a red tree on a hill in the distance. I called it burning bush; her mother liked the photo. I did not need a fire on a hill. Did you not know I wanted to speak to you on my terms, and no closer?
I spoke of names in so many words without actually naming any. I spread her name far and wide and we all bounced it back with unceasing prayers. We called her name a thousand times so that you would not call it. Were we not clear enough, not loud enough?
We thought if we did not speak your name, you would not come.