Hollow

I’m afraid of leaving here.

When I look at my pictures of Chris, now, I can’t make the connection that he was once a person...a flesh and blood presence in my daily life. I look at the images and I see flat paper containing a likeness of my husband but I don’t see my Chris. I know it ‘s him because I recognize him. I’d recognize him anywhere. There’s no warmth. Only sadness. Only a feeling of having been through the mill, having fought dragons and having been defeated. I feel a quiet surrender and my heart is at half-mast. And I hear the bugle echoing Taps in my mind which is now as hollow as my heart. Still, I keep moving on, treading gingerly forward because that’s what I chose for myself. That’s what Chris chose for me, too. And that’s what I choose for his spirit and soul, to always move forward for all of eternity. We’ll meet again, of that I’m certain.

I have almost finished packing up my apartment. I’m leaving on Saturday and for the first time in my life, I’m not going to take one last look at this empty, cold, dark, icy palace. Once it was filled with silliness laughter and love. Now it’s haunted by memories, longing, yearning, sadness and resign. I’m tired and it’s time to begin anew.

I’m afraid of leaving here. That’s part of why I must.

Shneedy-G