The day of “agos” and “why didn’t I”

Three years ago your heart was still beating, why didn’t I call you to warn you not to drive?

Three years ago you still smiled and would say “It will all work out, no worries”, why didn’t I call to check on you?

Three years ago you only had hours to live, why didn’t I know that? Why didn’t I feel it? Why was that sense suppressed when I have felt the future before, sensed something before it happened, I should have been able to warn you, I should have known you were not safe. I could so often sense  your thoughts and mood from hundreds of miles away.  Why did my heart betray me? Why didn’t I know you were dying?

Now I wake with my heart in my throat feeling like I have to call you, to warn you not to drive. Like my body is on delayed response, the overwhelming desire to reach out to you, tell you to wait, it haunts me.

I found some of your thesis notes yesterday, what a mind you had, I cannot reconcile how all that is lost. I miss how you would call me to tell me about your work, your patience and generosity in thinking that I could understand it all.  I didn’t, it was way over my head, but what was not over my head was the excitement in your voice, and your perseverance. You never gave up.

I found your assignments you had done for the class you were teaching. Blew me away. You cared so much for your students. You knew learning had to be fun, it had to have a purpose, otherwise it was dry and meaningless. You would have been an outstanding professor, an office full of books and stray cats…and stray students, you would have welcomed those who didn’t quite fit in, who thought out of the box, you would have sheltered the bullied and teased. I had to put all your notes and journals away, I couldn’t see for tears, saturation had been reached.

This is the longest day, the day of anticipation, the day of keeping watch.  The day of nausea and anger.  The day of “three years ago and why didn’t I.”