The things left behind....

We'll talk. We'll talk about the regrets and what-ifs and the senses of foreboding. We'll talk about an ache so deep that it can't be named. We'll talk about the excruciating pain of looking at young girls and the feeling that I want to hug those kids so tightly, or scream at them because they are alive and my kid is not. Or both. We'll talk about her bed left unmade that day (which was ok because I went and crawled under the covers as soon as I got home that day; the regret that I had done all her laundry that morning and couldn't find anything of hers to smell but her sheets, the make up left out on her vanity (the one I had searched for months to find, had put together myself and set up in her room and surprised her when she came home from school). We'll talk about friends and family holding us up when we couldn't standWe'll talk about her favorite songs-that still break my heart to hear on the radio 4 years later. We will fill our hearts with memories, good and bad; We'll long for the day when we get to wrap our arms around her again and kiss the heart ache good-bye.