[just. live.]

he saw his son peering around the corner of the cracked light-brown door frame.

come on in, boy, it's alright
you sure? i didn't mean to wake you
no no, you know i always like your company

he tried to force the corners of his mouth upward into a smile, but the pain and exhaustion didn't offer anything promising. his son took two steps into the room.

want to play parcheesi?
i'm a little tired, what about your sister?
layla is helping ama cook dinner--it's okay, we can just talk.

the little boy stumbled over and sat on the edge of the bed, patting his father's hand. tears filled the man's eyes as he wrapped one arm around his son.

what's wrong?
nothing's wrong
but you're--
i'm just proud of you. and i love you. you should know that, do you know that?
i know
good. now go help your mother set the table and i'll be there in a minute
alright
that's my boy.

he imagined what his son might be like when he grew up--what university he'd attend, whether he'd marry, and what he'd look like. would he be tall, or stout like his mother? she was beautiful--the love of his life, and a most loyal friend. how could he do this to her? no, it wasn't his fault...how could god do this to her? it wasn't fair. it never is. two years is better than 6 months, like some have. but it's never enough--neon shines, through smoky eyes tonight...

you can't time stamp life. how long from now would you be okay with dying? it's not something we can comprehend, you have to just. live. make each breath count, each shoulder squeeze mean every bit as much to you as it does her, every smile brighten your day as much as you hope it will theirs, and enjoy the kites, bubbles, noise makers, and even the stains in the carpet. these are all the memories. these are the stories. in the end, it's what lets us smile.

so just. live.

it's not fair. it's not easy. and it's not going to get any better, unless you make it better. you have to atleast try, and you have to let yourself laugh--and cry.

i love you, he whispered through soft sobs.

he wanted you to hear it every day, as if he were still here...even long after you'd forgotten his face. on quiet, dark nights as you go for a walk to clear your mind with a friend by your side, or in autumn as you sit on a bench to watch the leaves racing to the ground, or warm evenings listening to summer crickets--that's where you'll hear the whisper. and every once in a while, you'll have the urge to whisper back.

here i am, i love you too. and we're okay.