It’s been 54 days, and the moments pass like wildfire–
breath fanning the flames of this remembrance.
I wonder where you are today,
what form you’ve chosen to watch over me from.
Sip of coffee brings you near–soft, silken reunion.

I wish you were here this morning.
I wish we were here, together, watching the butterflies dance to the symphony of birds, lingering in stillness, together.
I wish we had more chances to linger in stillness,
to witness each other in presence, inviting curiosity to our hearts.
Another sip of coffee and I hear a laugh from deep within my bones,
realizing that this moment and that wish are one in the same.
Here, in this house with you,
here, drinking coffee with you,
here, reminiscing on all the memories that will only be made with you as fleeting space–
it’s been 54 days.

It’s been 54 days and I remember it like it was yesterday–
it was a text message.
Eyes on screen when shock consumed me,
I was not expecting the numbness.
And when the tears came they rained waterfalls–strong, and beautiful,
the roar of water on rock thundered from my belly–
You were there.

I felt you like I have never felt you before–
hand on shoulder,
consuming caress,
you were peace.
And joy, and freedom–
I could feel my spirit dancing with your own,
beckoning laughter to fall from the heavens–
a kind of comfort I could have never dreamed of.

You were right when you said you would be there.
You are still right–
for in the deepest moments of grief, you are always there.
Always here, holding the space for my emotions to run wild,
feeling them as your own,
I hear ‘thank you. this is your gift’
And at that, my heart breaks open a little bit more,
I feel you find your way into its cracks–
you are welcome here anytime.

It’s been 54 days,
and the moments of feeling you this close are fewer and farther between, already.
I’m sorry for that.
Your laugh comes through my cheeks and this time it is me saying thank you–
because it is moments like these that keep me going.
Moments like these that are etched into my heart, carved deep into my mind,
new memories in the making.
And it is this and you and the fleeting nature of existence that will live on as the inspiration to live again.
To live fully alive in as many moments as humanly possible,
to cherish this body that grants us pleasure and pain and longing and grief–
that allows us to know the nostalgia of brewing coffee in the morning
and stacked rocks.

It’s been 54 days of knowing you in your fullness.
Each day that passes, an opportunity to meet you as the All That Is.
And I remind myself that this includes equally the magic and the mundane–
that there is nothing that is separate from that which you have returned to.
And I am learning to find comfort in this, though some days are harder to remember than others.

But it’s okay.
It’s okay to forget sometimes,
because You are the ocean–
carrying timeless reminders like clockwork.

So I’ll sit at water’s edge,
stack rocks like memories–
and let cycles of time and tide
strip numbers from the days.