It's been three years, three months and eleven days since you left. Since I've seen your face, heard your voice, and felt your warmth. It can feel like forever, and in an instant, as if you've never really left at all. Perhaps you're on a journey. I like to think it is a beautiful one.
It chills me not to know. Having little faith in anything in particular and feeling guilty for having left the church so many years ago, when for so long i had fully believed in what is now a complete mystery to me. There are a million places, and just as many 'gods', to consider... There is also - in my mind - the very dreadful concept, that there is little, if anything, at all.
I could go out of my mind trying to figure it out, wishing I could, or pushing the very thought as far out of my head as possible. I know there's a middle ground somewhere. A place of peace and acceptance in and of the unknown - and the known. Where I can linger long enough to feel safe within and to simply be. To not only exist without your physical presence, but to live fully, feel deeply and love wholly. Knowing that no matter how I miss you, long for your comforting, and need for your unconditional place by my side, you never truly left at all.