thirteen letters

[I]

I associate you with stale coffee, pine, and cranberries. I can't smell any of the three without recalling your worn, green cushioned chair and the way you'd sit me on your lap, the stubble on your chin tickling my cheeks. and I can't listen to the sound of a rushing creek without hearing the sound of your raspy voice, accompanied with the smile that was always in it.

to some your speech was difficult to understand, and their eyes always seemed to wander to that piece of fabric tied methodically around your throat - but I always knew what you were trying to tell me, even when you didn't speak.

I like to think I alone inherited that small part of you- everyone else seems to have gotten your eyes, your nose, your chin -but I got the part of you that wasn't visible, or even tangible.

because sometimes I'll be sitting in a crowded room of people listening to the conversations going on around me and I realize I haven't spoken a single word. and with that realization I come to the conclusion that I didn't have anything to say to begin with - and that it's okay.

you taught me that there's nothing wrong in not having anything to say, and even more so not wanting to say anything at all. I discovered just because you don't say something out loud, it doesn't mean it can't be heard. you taught me that love is the greatest form of communication.

while the cancer took away your voice, your lungs, and ultimately your life, it could not take away your unconditional love. and I will remember you for that, always.