A love letter

Grace,

If I could sing a song to bring you back, I would.

If I could cry a river to float on and find you, I would.

If I could tie a rope onto a tree and swing into the heavens and find you, I would.
If I could connect the umbilical cord back to your belly, and breathe life back into you, I would.
If I could walk barefoot through the streets, across mountains and into the deserts to find you, I would.
If I could stand in the midst of a tornado to be carried and tossed back out to find you, I would.
If I could swim into the ocean, beyond the waves and toward its center to find you, I would.
If I could dive to the bottom of the ocean floor to pick you up again, I would. 

You are my child.

You are my love.
You are my heart.

You are the missing piece in these three walking hearts.

You are the crack in my being.
You are the hole in my heart.
You are the catch in my breath.
You are the tears in my eyes.
You are the empty place inside of me.
You are the air in the photographs between the second and fourth.
You are the box in the closet collecting dust and holding memories.
You are the name on my lips as I fall asleep and as I rise.

You are the cheeks of Carver, the eyes of Sophia and the chin of Sawyer.

You are missing.

You are the song without its refrain
The book without its epilogue
The river without its lake
The poem without an end

The rest of my days, I will look for you in the gestures of your sister, the sighs of your brothers, and the catch in your father's voice.

The rest of my days, I will love and I will weep and I will sing until my song brings me back to you again.