Some of the occasions in which I feel my most alive, are severed abruptly by the sudden and acute awareness that you, are not.
Laying in Savasana, my heart pounding through my chest and blood pulsing rapidly through my veins, I am struck by the realization that the sensations that mark the end of my workout and yoga practice are sensations that also contain within them life itself—and are things that you will never again experience.
Dancing on a dirt road, singing as loudly as I can, my eyes closed with a smile glued to my face, I twirl my body round and round.
My hair whips in every direction and I suddenly falter with the awareness that half a world away, your body lies beneath the same dirt that has become my dance floor.
And I’ll never see your smile, hear your laugh, or dance with you again.
Sailing down a snow covered hill, filled with so much joy and elation that I actually can’t stop laughing, I catch an edge and almost fall, when the sheer gravity of your absence bears down upon me with no warning.
Never again will you inhale the cold mountain air and feel the ice dusting against your face as you race down the hill in search of your next jump.
These and many more moments highlight my life and remind me that I am truly alive.
I drift from one joyous moment to the next, truly feeling the magnitude of what being alive actually feels like. More often than not, I’m in absolute awe at just how much happiness one person can possess.
And yet, without fail, in the midst of these moments, I will always be reminded of the loss of cellular electricity that you, that the world, that I, sustained on that day that you took your last inhale. That your blood flow slowed until it stopped altogether, when your ride along the cosmic highway took you further away from me, where I have yet to see you again.
And every single day, I miss you.
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