I still feel it… the pain.  It’s been three long years and still I wake to the smell of you on my pillow.  In the haze of my dream I smile as your sent slowly brings me to consciousness.  I curl towards the place where you used to lie and I take a deep breath, inhaling the clean, musky scent.  The subtle curve of my lips disappears and I sink into reality.  I bury my face into the softness that had long ago lost all comfort.  My tears replace the imaginary scent, shattering the last shreds of my dream.  The pain comes rushing back, smothering me with its intensity.  I let it take over; fighting just makes it worse.  Eventually the searing pain in my chest lessens to a tolerable ache and I can almost breathe normally again.  The light from the pestering window calls me toward the new day.  I despise daylight; it means the dreams are over.  I wish I could say that the pain fades over time.  But then I would be lying.  Some days are tolerable, even joyous, but others are wrapped in memories and agony.  But no matter what I awake to, I somehow plant my feet on the floor and live.

“Mommy?”  I hear the small voice calling me, “Can I have breakfast?”

After all… I still have something to live for.