Sorrow without End

I have no words.  I sat down here to try to make some sense out of the unimaginable, nine years later.  People tell you that it lessens with time.  They are lying.  The day of her funeral, my mother’s cousin, who had lost his daughter 17 years before, said a good day is one in which her loss is not the first thing you think of when you wake up.  I still think of her at least once every minute of every day. I’m not sure a day had passed in nine years that I’ve not cried.

 

I don’t cry for her.  She is all right, wherever her beautiful spirit is dwelling.  But Larry and I are lost. Completely. Utterly. And worst of all, hopelessly.  She was the heart and soul of our family, our futures, our hopes and dreams. She was the only one.  Without her, the days spread meaninglessly from one to another.  I bide my time here.

 

We were cleaning out some things today for some new furniture and I found this little poem she’d written sometime.  “In my dreams, I skip on clouds…”

 

Days like today, it is nearly more than I can bear.