April 24th will always be one of the most complicated days of my life.
For a long time, it represented something I thought would last forever.
A marriage. A future. A version of me that believed in permanence.
Today… it represents something different.
It represents growth.
It represents truth.
It represents the version of me that had to break in order to become who I am now.
I didn’t wake up today with a lot to say.
I thought I would.
I thought I would have paragraphs ready, emotions lined up, something powerful to share. But instead, I had silence. It wasn’t until I allowed my mind to slow down… until my body felt safe enough to feel… that the words came.
And when they did, they weren’t perfect.
They were honest.
I miss you.
More than words can express.
And I know that sounds cliché, but it’s the truth.
We haven’t spoken much in the last few years. Not because I didn’t want to, but because I didn’t want to feel like I was repeating myself. I didn’t want to keep saying how much I miss you, how much I wish you were still here, how much I wish we could go back to the way we used to talk.
But the truth is, I still think about you every day.
There was something about our connection that was different.
It wasn’t forced.
It wasn’t conditional.
It wasn’t tied to who I was with.
It was just real.
And I held onto that, even after everything changed.
I made an effort to stay connected. Even when I felt like I might be bothering you. Even when I questioned whether I still had a place in your life.
And every time, you reminded me that I did.
I still carry anger.
Not because you left… but because of everything we didn’t get to do.
All the “we’ll get together soon” plans.
All the moments that were supposed to happen but never did.
I think about the last time we spoke. How normal it felt. How real it felt. How certain I was that there would be more time.
But life doesn’t always give you more time.
I’ve had to sit with guilt too.
Guilt for not showing up more.
Guilt for not making more time.
Even though I know life was happening for both of us.
But grief doesn’t follow logic.
It holds onto possibility.
I think about your family.
Your mom.
Your boys.
They’re not boys anymore.
They’re men now. They’ve built lives. They’ve created families of their own. And even though I’ve had to watch from a distance, I’m proud of them. Deeply proud.
And I know you see it all.
I know you would be so proud.
There’s a strange space I exist in now.
I’m not part of that family the way I once was…
but I’m not disconnected either.
Because some bonds don’t break.
They just change.
I’ve learned a lot about myself since you’ve been gone.
I don’t explode the way I used to.
I don’t hold everything in the way I used to.
I’ve done the work.
I’m in therapy.
I’m healing for myself, not to prove anything to anyone.
And I take care of myself now.
I hear your voice sometimes… telling me to eat, telling me to take care of myself. And I wish you could see me now.
Because I’m still here.
Still growing.
Still becoming.
I never got to say goodbye the way I wanted to.
But maybe that’s why I still talk to you like this.
Because some goodbyes don’t come with closure.
And some love doesn’t need it.
Even if I don’t say it out loud every day…
that doesn’t mean I don’t feel it every day.
Because I do.
After all this time, it still doesn’t feel completely real.
And maybe it never will.
Because some love…
doesn’t end.
It just learns how to live differently.
The Becoming Of Ms. Butterfly Genesis 
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