Sure of You

“Piglet sidled up to Pooh from behind. ‘Pooh?’ he whispered.
‘Yes, Piglet?’
‘Nothing,’ said Piglet, taking Pooh’s hand. ‘I just wanted to be sure of you.’”
A.A. Milne

I'd be lying if there weren't moments where I begged for a sign, dream, feeling that you were here...around.

Like a detective I'd search for clues or signals...but my magnifying lens, in turn, seemed to blind me.

It's not a matter of the physical...that was something I had acclimated to not having or needing long before you were taken. It was more of that sense that in my deepest moments of despair you'd appear out of smoke to wipe away my tears.

But I forced it.

I begged and pleaded.

And it equated to me not feeling what was there all along.

Your presence...unfaltering a place that I could not see with my eyes, or figure out with my mind...

but felt it lodged, deep in my heart.

I'm sure of you.

I'm sure of you.

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