It’s after one in the morning and my favorite part of the movie has made its way to the room. I turn the sound up because the scene is only magnified by the emotionally inducing orchestrated music. She didn’t eat much for dinner so she’s sitting next to me with a bowl of sliced apples between her legs and her head resting on my arm. My girl. Half of the whole that leaves me feeling some days like I’m trapped and other days like I’m living my greatest adventure.
After my favorite scene she says, “again, again.” I laugh and text my girlfriend whose favorite movie is also Great Expectations and recount the scene. She writes back fully appreciating the moment.
This little thing is sitting next to me, sipping on a Cran-Raspberry Le Croix and repeatedly saying, “Mama, coke, coke.”
She gets up to get a book and asks me to read “Peak a Who” over and over while my movie finishes. Is she real? Sometimes I have to ask myself that.
I’ve learned that when you experience grief at the depth that you can’t get a full breath you never forget what it feels like. It changes you at your core. Grief changes us, that’s no doubt. And I know that sometimes it’s not for the better. But in my case it was.
I lean over and kiss her right where the corner of her eye meets her temple and she leans back. This is rarely the case, but tonight I’m so happy she woke up wanting me. She has reminded me yet again that God knows exactly what he’s doing.