The weight of her body in my hands as she slowly slipped into the great beyond.
The softness of her skin against mine.
The other night I was driving my car, and one of her songs came on. I cried, for the first time in a long time. A big, ugly cry.
I cried for her little life. I cried for my mother. I cried for myself, suspended like a bridge between these two women.
I sometimes have this feeling in the palms of my hands- they are electric. Those are the times that I miss her the most. When she is missing from me. That electricity is the weight of where she rested. A memory imprint on my flesh.
I miss her, and I miss her. I'm full of missing and empty and wanting and electricity.
My lifespan isn't enough to keep hold of all of this energy. I hope to have them both, when I close my eyes.
Tonight is just about remembering.