Sometimes this house feels as empty as the proverbial tomb.
However the grave, though existentially absent, and purely metaphorical, is not empty.
So there are days when, conversely, everywhere I turn there are vivid echos.
Glimpses out of the corner of an eye.
Flashes of memories.
Cruel reminders of happier days.
I want so badly to smile at them. With them.
To let the way his smile lit up his face, and the way he looked at me, light up mine again.
But as with so many things, I’m not there yet.
And the love that has nowhere to go, pours down my cheeks, as my heart aches, and the only hug to be had is my arms wrapped around my knees as I curl up in a ball on the sofa and let it all out.
Just another thing that I wish was different and that, just like those, is not.
All those memories serve to do is to remind me of what was, and what no longer is; what will never be.
Of what I still miss so much.
Did you know he loved musicals?
Well, to paraphrase, there is now an empty chair at every table.
Time has passed on for many, while I am left in its wake.
Washed up on some barren shore.
And the grief goes on and on.
We walked on a tightrope hand in hand, to live our lives the way we wanted to.
And oh, the adventures we had…
I just wish we’d had more time.
But however much I might wish it, we can’t rewrite the stars.
It is, as ever, what it is.
Another day draws to close, an empty tomorrow looms, and another weekend full of the same is right there waiting, on its shirt tails.
Now ain’t that just peachy?
(the best book on grief I’ve ever read. It’s OK That You’re Not Ok.).