Path Forward - 22. Paint Me a Life Where She Stayed

Paint Me the Life Where She Stayed

By Brandon Haines

If you could take this aching memory
and stretch it across a canvas,
would you paint the life I longed for-
the one where she stayed whole?

Start with a morning without fear,
where her breath came easy,
where her laughter fills the kitchen
instead of the quiet hum of worry.

Give her a body that never betrayed her,
hands steady enough to hold
all the years we were meant to share.

Brush in the holidays she missed,
the milestones she should’ve seen,
the ordinary afternoons
that illness stole before I was ready.

Paint her standing in the doorway,
not fading…
but alive with the warmth
I still feel when I speak her name.

And if your colors can bear it,
paint me beside her-
not grieving,
not bracing for the next close call,
but living the life
where goodbye came decades later.

Make it a picture I can touch
when the ache rises,
a reminder of the love that shaped me
and the world I still wish we had.

Paint me a Birmingham… where illness never took her.
Paint me a Birmingham… where I don’t have to wait
until God calls me home… to hug her.

Start with a sunrise that never felt rushed,
where her smile met the morning
instead of the quiet ache of fear.

Give her strength in every step,
a body that didn’t betray her,
a voice that didn’t fade
into hospital rooms and whispered prayers.

Brush in the years we should’ve had-
holidays she missed,
birthdays she deserved,
ordinary afternoons
that slipped through my fingers
long before I was ready.

Paint her laughing in the kitchen,
hands warm,
eyes bright,
alive in all the ways
I still see her when I close my eyes.

And if your colors can hold it,
paint me beside her-
not grieving,
not bracing for the next storm
but living the life
where she stayed long enough
for every “I love you”
to land in the light.

Paint me a Birmingham…
where she’s waiting on the porch,
not in Heaven alone.

Paint me the world
where I don’t have to wait
for God to call me home…
to feel her arms around me again.

And so I stand here in the life I have-
not the painted one,
not the one I dreamed,
but the one her love prepared me to carry.

She may not be in the doorway,
or laughing in the kitchen,
but the strength she gave me
still rises with the morning.

I can’t step into the world
your colors helped me imagine,
but I can live this one fully-
knowing her love didn’t end,
it simply changed its home.