for another year we two have been separated by a common heaven. for all this time, i’ve been writing letters to you in my head.
i miss you. and this is a cactus that decided to blossom on the window-sill. apparently, it likes it there.
sometimes, i meet you in my dreams, and we do stuff together. i am grateful for those dreams, really. but should you disappear so suddenly, leaving me lost each time? i have two cats now, large and kind. you’d have liked them.
this year, i remember your cooking. we have been talking about it with my friends. i’ll make the cold soup your style soon.
i have not been at the graveyard often. because i still do not believe you are there. i have forgotten, i confess, which grave was yours, and which grave is the little kid’s. i’m sorry. and yet – were you both there, in the cold earth, dead and buried: i’d remember the graves. i’ll burn incense here, and know it reaches the heaven.
where you are. where god can be seen with the naked eye, without fear. i long to meet him, and in him – you. whenever the good day will come.
congratulations on the anniversary of your faring forth, my mother.