Vincent has an appointment in urology.
Felix is getting an echo and EKG in cardiology.
On the cardiology unit. I miss my girl. This hallway, where I spent so much time with her and hoped to continue spending time with her. I miss my girl.
The grief comes back to me here. The love comes back to me here. I miss my girl.
Vincent sees the elevators and being the emergent reader that he is he notices Eva's name...something I never have...
See it now?
Nobody knows how much I miss my girl because nobody knows how much I love my girl. That's why grief is so lonely for everyone.
There is a pink ribbon of pain that flows through my soul. There are blues and yellows and greens and reds of joy but the pink ribbon of grief and pain and love flows through every single aspect of my life. Pink. And also invisible. While the rainbow assortment of joyful colours clamour for attention, the pink silently binds my heart. I miss my girl.
The intensity of our grief is in direct relation to the intensity of our love. I miss my girl.
On the road home Mike and I drive in silence. Each nursing our own lonely grief and love. Because even with the only other person who loved Eva as much as the other, the road of grief is lonely.
Mike says he always misses Eva most driving home from Edmonton because she would have come every single time for checkups. Eva and Edmonton are always intertwined in our hearts and it's always sad and strange and emotionally exhausting to go there.
We miss you so much our little princess Eva. You were the sparkle in our day. We miss our girl.