Packing an old life, unpacking that old life into the new…
Disorientation stabs again, for where is the life that was so confident, so assured. Where are the people of that life? Did we really live together all those years in that house? A family?
Today is so different for I am alone. Once a member of a family, now I’m alone as the family scatters. This… this is what breaks my heart now. The scattering, different paths, occasional visits. We each are finding life in the ways that draw us now. And those paths are rays of life emanating from that central family. This is natural, this is the flow of life, the flow of family, the flow of life and death and life. Yes, this I realize… yet I miss my family… I miss being in a family…
There’s a shoe box, where weekly Randy spiffied his shoes. That box is a ghost… should I keep this ghost? There’s Randy every week, yet since death, that box sits still. Bringing that old life here to the new, the cats rub and sniff on that box. They as well remember…
Hubby, children, are all now replaced with this shoe box. They are gone from my daily life, yet this wooden reminder remains. A ghost of the vibrancy of family.
How long my God, how long… my heart drains under this weight.
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The Survivor 