Your last, whispered words spoken were, “I love you, honey.” It is as if the words floated through the air between us and found their way inside, under my skin, pumped through my blood stream until they found their home. The four little words tattooed on my heart. Those four little words have a surging, pulsating power of their own. The power to reassure me when I doubt, the power to comfort when sadness seeps in, and the power that allows me to offer a hand in forgiveness when I find myself in the midst of anger. Questioning. Just words spoken. Still, words hold such colossal power over our mind.
On the anniversary of your passing, I take comfort in those four little words for I was wandering lost in a forest of uncertainty and doubt. Frightened and fearful. To walk away from a loved one, one must reach a grey place. For there is no joy in this act. Then, one must switch off a piece of heart cell, much like one switches off a light. Click, done, off. Only then, is it possible to turn around and walk away. Well, almost possible for it never gets easier, just possible. The scar thickens, providing a protective barrier. For this is what happens when hearts break, something penetrates deep inside, thickening and scarring the core of life. Just words that hold the power to pull us together, reconnect us, healing our brokenness. Bits and pieces fall away from our shell until I imagine us finally gone. As you are now, gone from my life.
I love you, dad. Just four little words sent forth on a winter wind to you. Catch them, tattoo them on your heart.