Early morning, clouded sky and darkened room. Mood is as dreary as the day. I smash a bug that alights upon my desk and as I brush him to the floor, a tiny green light glows, flickers and goes out.
Living through the night before with one less person in the world. Closer still; missing from her kitchen, an empty chair, food left over. Living yet in the eyes of each of us, hiding underneath the lids not ready yet to open full. Words between us three are tentative and testing. Can we say her name yet, can we laugh; yes, the time she stood on that same chair in her own kitchen changing lightbulbs. Jumped in fear, then anger at the zzzzzzt! my husband hissed. Then laughing with us, though not as hard. Her laughter hangs there still and joins with ours this meal, though ours is softer now with memory.
The Lost Children: A Charity Anthology
wandering about before i had for my
roaming the blogsphere
I’m sorry for your loss, Susan.