My journey is this: every moment and every day I labor long and hard to focus on my love for Corey rather than how much I miss her. It's that simple and it's that impossible.
One of her friends sends me another photograph of her--and I need these photographs, and I need to know that her friends are thinking of her as I do--and there she is, her sunburnt skin and perfect body poised on the tip of a boat in a bay, utterly content. She loved water, she loved air and stone and fire. She loved art. She loved to move her body. She loved her friends, female and male. She understood goddess energy from the time she was a little girl and wanted to be the first female president of the United States.
Her body is no longer walking around on this earth, but that does not mean that our love for her stopped. The love always has to have somewhere to go. And some of us have chosen to let the love grow firey and passionate amidst our tears, to encourage our love for her be strong, growing stronger amidst our grief.
Because love is stronger than death.