As If a Rose Flew In

Wczoraj, kiedy twoje imię ktoś wymówił przy mnie głośno, tak mi było, jakby róża przez otwarte wpadła okno. — Wisława Szymborska, “Nic dwa razy” Yesterday, when someone spoke your name aloud, it felt to me as if a rose had flown in through the open window.

It's 2 years since the unthinkable happened.

One moment you're there. We talk, we laugh, we sometimes bump heads, we have plans for the future. And suddenly I find myself in a world without you.

For a long time I didn't use the d-word. The four-letter word that explains why you're no longer here. Died. She died. Agnes died. You died.

I didn't avoid that word for its harshness - and it is harsh. I avoided it because it was so alien to my concept of you. When I think of you, other verbs come to mind. You laughed. You sang. You giggled. You loved. You joked. You learned. You cooked. You shared. You created art/food/fashion. You did all these wonderful things, and many more.

Your dying is a thing that happened to you. But saying that you 'died' doesn't make sense to me. It has a finality to it, and it just doesn't fit with my concept of you. It's true that you passed from this world, and you're no longer with us. But that doesn’t define you. And the love you put into the world, the love you nurtured, continues.

You gave me the ultimate gift. You loved me for the rest of your life.

And I know I can do the same.

💜