The missing parts of me have gone missing. Hopes and dreams have disappeared. I wanted so much for them. I had not realized how much more I wanted for me, too. When they say life goes on I take it to mean graduations will take place and my children won’t be there. Mother’s Day, Father’s Day, any day arrives and others celebrate their loved one’s presence and I miss holding the ones I love. Children will be born, but not to my children. Seasons will come, but not to us, only me.
And there is so much missing in me. They are missing. By loss’s very nature, large parts of me that were so intertwined with them are missing. My laughter no longer lands right. I laugh at something funny and want to share the joy, but a part of joy is missing. I see a sunset and want to feel my heart beat with theirs, but the sun sets in silent longing.
The future is missing. I am missing a future. I had plans. I had dreams. I had hopes. I had them. Where did everything go? Where did I go?
The people around me see a body in motion. They hear my voice and see me go through the day like everybody else. But I see a silhouette of sorrow. I look in the mirror and see all the parts of me that are gone. I see what’s left and shadows of what has been left crowd an empty mirror.
I want them back. I want me back. I want to go back. But there is no going back. Today holds the fog of yesterday in the wind of time. Tomorrow was a long time ago. Today pretends tomorrow will come. I pretend today has a tomorrow. I pretend I am not missing. The world around me is more comfortable when I pretend.
But when I am alone, when there is no need to live in pretense, I live with these orbiting missing parts of me that are just beyond my reach. The ghostly parts of me are as untouchable as the parts of me that won’t let me go. When I pretend, my paralysis resends. But when I am alone, the light leaves dark shadows that shine on all that is missing.
Life goes on. Yes. I go on. But the “I” that goes on is not the same. I have accepted that my path is incomplete. Every moment has a missing part, missing who I was, missing what could have been, missing vital parts of what was and what now is and what will never be.
I am at peace with the fragmentation of my life. It’s like cooking a fine meal without all the ingredients. I make do and enjoy the meal for what it is. I am deeply grateful for what I have. Nonetheless, I miss what is missing. My wholeness is in the acceptance of my fragments. My love is loving all of me, all of this, even the parts that are missing.
