In the shadows of your absence
I wander through the days
Seeking solace in the memories
In the love that always stays.
Your presence like a whisper
A ghost that’s ever near
In the quiet of the night
I wish that you were here.
Though life moves ever onward
And time will heal the pain
In the shadows of your absence
Your memory will remain.
That is a lovely calm poem.
But I’m not there yet. His presence is more like a scream than a whisper, the memories are still the raw, painful, illness- dominated ones. The unfairness of it when he was such a fitness fanatic and such a good, unassuming undemanding man still wrenches at my heart. Then just when I’m steadying myself up and learning how to manage a life on my own something comes along and reminds me of the loss only nine months before of my Mother, her decline into dementia, how hard it was caring for her at a distance, in a home, while my man was incurable ill. And then my glasses break, I dig out a spare pair, look at myself and realise they make me look like my sister. Who died only three days after my husband but hundreds of miles away so I couldn’t even go and give her a final hug.
Will calmness ever come?