Letters for Rose {to be continued}

Dear Rose, (55)

When life is hard, you're absence is harder. I mean, when life is hard just because it is in fact hard, not having you here, by my side, to talk to, makes it even harder. Sometimes unbareble. Some other times in the limit between life and death. Of course I'm not dying but it certaintly feels like it. Hum, it's like you have been shot and you are laying on the ground, alone, bleeding, moaning in pain, screeming for help, praying and fighting for your life. And you know no one is coming and you also know you are not going to die. So I guess what I am trying to explain is the desperation. The knowing that you are dying and the knowing that you are actually not dying. The feeling that you are dying but the knowing that you won't in deed die. Let's put it this way: the hard part is the consciousness of it all. The fact that I feel like crap and I have full conscience of my situation, I'm aware that you are not here nor will you be, it's the hard part. And hard parts are harder to get through. To succeed. To live to tell the tale. Why would anyone choose to fight just to expect another hard part after? Cause I wouldn't. I wouldn't fight. Not by knowing that after that you wouldn't be here to catch me before I fall. Or to congratulate me. Or to at least wave back and say hello. I wouldn't fight if you weren't the prise at the end. I wouldn't fight if I couldn't win you back. It's not worth it.

Cathy