I am not the person I used to be.

I don't have a name. I don't know what to do. I am not the person I used to be...
I used to be Dana with a mom who was bold, selfless and strong.
Who was always there and who I sought to make proud without everyday.
Summers at the shore, airport pick ups filled with smiles, the joy she shared over my son.
I used to be Dana with a dad who was the most generous dreamer.
Who was always there when I landed with a smile, fidgeting his hands and telling stories.
When it was a simply task to quiet my mind and be with myself.
We used to be the Nardello’s
We used to be a family, under the willow tree at Ridgefield Road with and Italian market.
Memories of days at St Albans swim club, baseball games, crabs and spaghetti, water ice and the cousins playing on the beach sand.
I grew to be Dana.
Driven and unstoppable, who found love and started a family in the Rockies.
Who prided herself on visiting home as often as possible and not losing her east coast roots.
I used to be Dana
Now I am someone who lost both her parents in a year, an adult orphan?
I used to be Dana
Now I am anxious energy, the inability to handle solitude without fidgeting and filling the silence.
Now I am unsatisfied, always feeling I am not doing enough and what I am doing isn’t worth it.
Now I am haunted, images of dad alone in his bed, moms deep hollow breathes.
I am not Dana, yet
I am not sure who I will become.
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.