It was the two of us for her last three years.

It was the two of us singing Dolly Parton in the car and eating spaghettios from the microwave.

It was the two of us watching Christmas movies in July and buying lotto tickets for my yoga studio.

It was the two of us ordering eggs benny at the diner and turning off the Titanic before the boat sank.

It was her soft hand in mine when we sat next to each other.

It was her wig that she would put on sideways and fly off in the wind.

It was the candy falling out of her pockets.

It was her laugh I would hear when a Family Feud answer was raunchy.

It was her legs that lost their feeling.

It was my heart that was breaking when I wouldn’t allow it.

It’s her 4’11” inches that she insisted was 5’4” that I miss.

It’s the hot coffee that I no longer have to pour.

It’s her dog that now falls asleep next to mine.

It’s all my love that doesn’t know where to go that I call my grief.

It’s the empty room across the hallway, once bright and now cold.
It’s the fear in her eyes at the end that I tried to ease but couldn’t.

It is her who is more than any word or thing.

It’s the pain that lives in my chest, whirling like a dust storm.
It’s the deep breaths I take trying to break through.

It’s all the words of affirmation she gave that are moving me.
It’s time passing, pushing me forward no matter how heavy my feet are.

It’s the quiet, rocking chair mornings that I think about.
It’s the trust and faith she had in me that I only see now.

It’s the tears that come unexpectedly and haven’t run out.
It’s the fear that one day I will forget.

It is all her heart, and that is more than everything.
She is more than she ever meant to be.