It’s strange how innocuous thoughts can so easily lead to you to your best memories, and enduring grief over loss of love. I’m not talking about a man. At least, not the loss of that kind of love.
Tonight, I cried a little for Keffi, and prayed for her, and for her constant upliftment. I asked God to look out for her, to watch over her for me, because she was precious.
The last time I was in Barbados, one of the last things I did was pray over her sleeping daughters. Asked for their constant growth, and for protection for them because they were motherless children. To protect them from negativity and wickedness.
I miss her. I really just miss talking to her. It was always cool that we could talk to each other, and tell each other our secrets. I miss that.
Tonight, although I cried because I missed her presence in my life, I am well aware the tears are for myself. I know she’s free from the weight of the world, and it’s her bliss to sit at God’s feet. I cry for my own loneliness, my own sense of emptiness in her wake.
Ahhh… grief is like that, I guess. I still cry for my grandfather sometimes, and he died more than twenty years ago.
I honour them by going on, but it’s always hard not to look back and miss them and the love they gave you.