Feb. 9, 2019

Twenty-five Years Later...



A letter to someone I miss beyond words, on the twenty-fifth anniversary of his passing.





Dearest Marcus Lee Micah,

Today marks twenty-five years since you were taken from me.  Twenty-five years since I looked into your hazel eyes.  Twenty-five years since you were in my arms.  A quarter of a century of grief and sorrow.  A quarter of a century of wishes.  A quarter of a century of pain.  I miss you.

I wonder what you would be like now.  Would you be a doctor now, helping me research everything my doctors tell me?  Would you be a star in the NFL, flying me to all your away games?  Would you be the CEO of a Fortune 500 company with a family of your own?  Would you be a hip-hop star with numerous platinum hits?  Would you be a famous author with numerous national and international accolades and awards?  Or would you be a stay-at-home father?  Or would you be a local hero like policeman or fire fighter?  Or would you be something equally amazing like a teacher?  I wonder these things all the time.  I still grieve your loss and always will.  However, I’m no longer crippled by it.  The reason for that is thanks to one of the books that I read, the one that’s dedicated to me.

Intimate Intuition helped me heal quite a bit.  It helped me realize that I’ve held you back from moving on, held myself back from moving on.  Thinking of you doesn’t send me into the dark void of depression for days anymore.  I can think of the joy of you and not break.  I can celebrate the beauty of my time with you and not crack.  Yet, I can still take the moments I need to grieve your loss.  This is all thanks to one book, written by my ultimate favorite author, Audrey Carlan.  It’s so momentous that I had it tattooed along with the mala prayer beads she gifted me.  Can you feel the weight that has lift off my heart and soul?  I can, especially today.

Today, I’ll take the time to cry and mourn.  Any day I need to, I’ll do the same, because I’ll always miss you and I’ll always love you.  I hope you’re proud of me and the growth I’ve made.  I hope you’re proud of the woman I’ve become. 

I’ll see you in my dreams where I can hold you again.


Hu guaiya hao,