“Never,” was the last word I ever said,
in response to her
saying I was calling her a failure.

I didn’t know.
I hoped I’d hear something in return,
because just like every conversation,
I wanted more.

I wish I’d known.
There’s a lot that wasn’t said
that should have been.

I often said she was an angel.
I often said she not only healed an injured child,
but the rest of us.
I called her magical.

I recognized that she was someone special,
but I never said that to her,
strong enough.
Often enough.
It wasn’t stressed
enough.

Her kindness.
It can’t be stressed enough: irreplaceable.
I wish I’d known and had something more intelligent to say.
Something more.

But maybe that was how she wanted conversation:
On her terms.
Just like she was.
I can’t believe I’ll never see her beautiful smile again.