Haunted and heartbroken without you

I still wake up with nightmares. 

I am haunted of who you were when you couldn't be yourself. 

You wanted to say, "this is not me," 
I wanted to believe it and still do. 

But that version of you, that's what really lingers. 

I want to remember the days when you boldly carved your path,
when you did more than fight to be with those you love.
I want to forget how helpless you felt,
abruptly shifting into moments of reality and fading away fast. 
I want to remember the ocean clarity of your big blue eyes,
when hopefulness and strength shined through rather than pain.
I want to remember when you looked and felt beautiful,
when your blond hair framed your face. 
I want to remember your big smile,
the loud belly laugh you shared in unison with your sisters. 

Though you slipped away from us into other loving arms,

"hey mom, how did you get away from daddy?" 
Your daddy, and ours too were whispering in your ear. 
"Your dad is making this happen faster, but it's easier for him."

I know they were at the edge of your bed,
but so were we. 
Waiting.  Waiting on a miracle, waiting to wake up, waiting for you to return to us.
Most days I am still waiting and now I am not sure for what. 

I wish I could say that dreaming of you made me feel you near. 

The nightmares, a joyous celebration of your life.

But, I can't yet find joy in your memory. You were my life. 

Maybe I am not ready to celebrate.

I don't have it in me to dance. 

Images of people showing they cared through song and dance. 

I watched from the sidelines, scared, lonely, unable to move on. 

I wanted to hear your confident tone.

Maybe I am not ready to listen. 

I don't have it in me to trust my own voice.