a dance 'round the memory tree

I've held it together so well for the past few years. Even when she was in the hospital, even when she was crying and I had never in my entire life seen her cry, even when she was yelling and getting angry when I had never in my entire life seen her yell or be angry. I've kept it together for her, and you. You know I'm here for you to run to when you get frustrated with her, and upset with her, and angry at what's happening to her.
But I couldn't keep it together tonight, and that's why I couldn't stand by your side while you talked to her on the phone the whole time, trying to convince her that it was dark outside because it is nighttime and not daytime.
I barely made it out of the room before I fell apart. But I promise I only allowed myself a couple of precious minutes before I dried my tears and came back to your side to tell you it was going to be okay.

The thing is, I'm a bad liar, but you believe what I say, because you want to believe it will be okay.
Sometimes things just aren't okay.
And sometimes things don't get to be okay ever again.

This is one of those things, and I think I'm starting to feel it sink in now.

I miss her, and she's not even gone.