I see you.
I close my eyes and I see you.
I see your smile. I see your sparkling eyes. I see your slightly wrinkled hands and face. I see your warm demeanor. I see your charm and your radiance.
I don’t see the sickness. I don’t see the cancer. I see you.
I see you as your best version, the one where you still had life. The one where you had bounce and stamina and spunk. The one where you still had health and a future.
The one where you still had life.
The vision of your death used to consume me. It used to find me in times of peace and wreck havoc on my heart and spirit. Now, years later, I no longer see the frail you. I no longer envision the sick and bedridden version. I stopped envisioning the you that had life and time slipping away.
I see you in all your glory. Beautiful and free. Full of joy and love and life.
I see you. Just as you were in life. Not as you were in death.
Time has shifted my view. Time changed my vision and perspective.
When grief first entered my life, the darkness and pain had control and authority. Until the day light shined through, claiming back the power and energy. Light and time and perspective made things beautiful again. They gave me back you, the real you, the version I love and miss.
You are beautiful. You are loved. You are missed.
And you are seen, just as you were in your glory days, full of life and love and radiant sparkle.
I close my eyes and I see you.
And it’s a blessing.
