I did not know this woman, whose life I feel so connected to now.

I never got to see her face, or look into her eyes.

I never heard her voice, or felt the touch of her hand.

Instead, I see her face when I gaze upon her daughter’s.

I see her eyes look into mine when I turn toward her photograph.

I hear her voice in my ear, when I hear a story being told about her.

I feel her hand on my heart when I think about how much I care about the Man that she loved, and who loved her in return.

I did not have the privilege to have you in my circle before you left this earth.

I am sorry you had to go.