I miss Jake
I miss the way he was
I miss his honesty
I miss the rawness of his emotions
I miss the fight that was in him...that he had survived against all odds
I miss his all-consuming anger as he fought to dispel the evil from his soul
The evil that had been put there against his will.
I miss his kindess
I miss the way he cared about the way I felt,when he was feeling lost himself.
I miss how excited he was when he slept, or when he had a good day.
I miss how he said that he'd be better tomorrow, whether he believed it or not.
I miss the way he made me better
I miss the way I worried more about him than I worried about myself
I miss the way I cried when I would read a piece of his story
I miss the way I cried when he took the time to care about me, and how I trusted the truth in his caring.
I miss the way I wanted to protect him, to make his day better, to get even with those who had hurt him so badly.
I miss knowing that no matter how bad my day had been, that a note from Jake could make me feel ashamed that I had felt sorry for myself for having to live it.
I miss the fact that, who he was or what he was didn't matter as much as the kindness and the good that seemed to be able to somehow come through the computer and speak to my child and make him feel safe, when nothing else could.
I miss the way I loved that kid.
I never told him that. Never could.
Never wanted to scare him into thinking I was one of those dangerous ones we had to be so careful of.
I hope he knew.
I think perhaps in Jake I found my inner child
And talked to him
And cared for him
And that he cared for me...a first-time meeting, so to speak.
Complicated...but somethng more than two friends talking...
I hope he felt that too.
I miss him.
I hope he's well.
I hope the hell he's living in will someday fade away...most likely not...but still I hope.
And I miss me...that me...that brief unselfish me.
I'll get over it...I always do...but I'll miss us all the same.
I'm healing now, and I wasn't sure I would.