Five Years

Five years doesn't seem possible. Her mark is indelible. There isn't much to say, I suppose, after five years. What else is there to think about, to feel? 

I used to see the redemption in her death, the changes in me, in my family, how she breathed so much beauty and complexity into our lives. How I'm a better person, more whole in some way, more in tune with the society of the suffering that surrounds me on all sides. I'm not so sure anymore, not as certain. 

I think, it is what it is.

What else can you say about it? These days I no longer take anything away from her death except that she died. 

Sweet daughter of mine, how I wish you were her.