In dedication to a man I knew who was about to lose his wife to a terminal illness.
She loved daisies.
She loves me.
She loves me not with
Whatever will I do with
-out my Daisy’s love?
Shared at Poetic Bloomings
The clock is incessant in its reminder that time is slipping away from me. BANG! Seconds are ticking by. BANG! Each one as jolting as the shots ringing out in the solemnity of that day so long ago. BANG! Yet they don’t stop at 21. BANG! They keep on keeping on. BANG! My blood pressure rises with each one. BANG! My pulse races. BANG! Will my heart burst from chest? BANG!
I hear voices around me, but they are like distant murmurs in the echoes of that clock. I don’t know who they are. I don’t know who has come to say goodbye. In spite of them, I feel so alone in this darkness. My husband waits for me, I’m sure of it. But I’m afraid. This is not a journey I’ve been on before. I don’t know what to expect. I want to join him. But I’m afraid. Was he afraid, too?
Wait, why do I not hear the clock? Where did the murmuring voices go?
“Who are you?” A beautiful being stands before me, wrapping me in light. More specifically, I wonder how it is that I am able to see. I feel the warm touch of a hand to my head.
Time stands still.
“Do not be afraid.”
Written in response to an excerpt of the lyrics from Santana’s and Everlast’s “Put Your Lights On” (songwriters: ERIK SCHRODY © Warner/Chappell Music, Inc):
There’s an angel, with a hand on my head
She say I’ve got nothing to fear
Shared at Flashy Fiction Friday
Picking out the family Christmas tree hadn’t been the same since Catherine passed away. She was the best at finding just the right one. Truth be told, he knew he was the muscle of the pair—it was she who had the eye for design. To him, they all looked the same!
That first year, James and Catherine’s son and his family made the trek home from Miami to try to help bring some holiday cheer to the now-quiet home. And he appreciated their effort – but it just wasn’t the same. Robbie picked the first tree he came to and insisted it was the one Mom would have chosen—James knew it was more because his son had become too accustomed to the warm beaches, to stay too long in the Colorado cold.
As the years passed, Robbie’s visits became fewer as his growing family got busier. And James found himself standing alone among the evergreens, hatchet in hand, missing the love of his life. Being in the mountains with Catherine were some of his best memories of their time together. He could almost see her excitedly darting from tree to tree, talking about how many more lights she planned to add to their tree that year.
James wasn’t entirely certain of how much time had passed before he realized it had been snowing. The cold air stung the corners of his eyes, where tears had formed. Blinking and squinting, he didn’t know if he could trust what he was seeing. It looked as if ALL of the trees in front of him were filled with lights.
Catherine had just sent James a gift from heaven. The beauty of the snow-covered trees, filled with more light than he’d felt or seen since Catherine’s death, gave him new inspiration. Instead of his annual trek with a hatchet to take down a tree, he returned to that spot each year with cords and generators and more and more lights, as a gift back to Catherine.
Shared at Flashy Fiction Friday
It’s not my imagination…
as I listen to the music of the night,
my defenses disappear
and my heart
grows tender to the truth.
Teary eyes reflect starry skies
as I walk alone into my dreams.
Shared at 1Sojournal for NaPoWriMo – Day 26.
Night’s slow fade
of blue to purple
sends my heart
the world to where the sky is
filled with your mourning.
Shared at 1Sojournal for NaPoWriMo – Day 15.