I dreamed about you. I was telling you, a few brief sentences, what's happening in my life. And you just listened, giving me space to share. It felt like peace.

I woke up and tried to hold on to that feeling, but what crashed into me was an aching loneliness and guilt, I-miss-you and this indescribable feeling of how the dead leave us with more questions than we ever had while they were living, because we often believe we will have time. 

Time to see it all play out. Time to let the truth surface on its own terms. People don't have all the answers, and sometimes we have to let things sit, and see what grows. But once someone dies, all that is cut short, isn't it? There are no answers, only questions. 

And I'm sorry for sounding so selfish about all this. Just know that I miss you; I'm grateful for the peace and the listening; the space you gave me to be who I was.