Letter to my dead lover, best friend, beautiful woman, delightful "bebe" (grandmother), mother, and child.

Debra, would that I could raise you from the dark ether of nothingness into the light of being, of living.
No matter what it would take, if I had the power to resurrect you, my love, I would do it!
I am here, reaching out with my heart and soul to find any part of you.
You died in that spot, right next to our bed, and yet I cannot sense a scintilla of your presence there. No aroma, not a whisper, not a hint of a ghostly touch.
I love you, Debra, with all my heart and soul, and I invite you to come to me and embrace any light or warmth my love can offer you.
I picture your silky, golden-reddish hair, babe. I remember touching ever-so-gently your forehead and stroking your temples with my fingertips.
You loved having your forearms stroked, slowly gliding up and down the length of your arms with fingers barely touching your skin.
You were my light in the dark, Debra. You were my peaceful haven, my heaven, my lady of bright spirit.
In my grief, I have tried to bargain for your return, but I know that you will not come back to me.
You are gone, baby. And I am surrounded and haunted by these ghosts - these sweet, quiet ghosts.
l saw you going down the escalator at the mall this afternoon; I saw you climb the tree in the back yard, though I had never seen you do that before.
More than 16 years, Debbi. We were companions for nearly 6,000 days, my golden lioness, and I cherish those moments, even to the last, though I wish I could banish the memory of your face's appearance as you took your last conscious breath. The sting and horror overwhelm me at times.
Debra, ILY4ever! I pray that your journey onward is filled with joy, and free of pain and sorrow.
Yours, always.