It’s almost winter now. Most all of the birds, have fled south in fear of its coming. With its approach, the nights have grown longer and ever so colder. Yet, I am still here, sitting on the front porch in the old wooden sway-chair. Night after night I sit here, remembering her being here with me, as we watched the sun set behind the old pines, at the edge of the field. It is now late November and with each day that passes, it’s a little colder than the day before and is yet another day, which I feel so alone. Time has brought with it, countless memories and undeniable questions, which lay unanswered at the back of my mind. In day’s past, I’ve tried to suppress the memory of her not being here.
The sun sets earlier now, casting its reddish-purple hue across the evening sky. As it sets, it takes with it the infinitesimal warmth, cast on the sententious fall day. Nevertheless, each day I find myself back in the swing chair, watching as winter’s untamed grip sets in. I’ve watched as the cold crisp autumn air, drained the life out of the world around me. The trees, the flowers, even the animals, could not stand up to its coming. As nightfall approaches, I continue to watch, as the sun sets yet another day, wondering if the night will somehow bring her back to me.
Tonight, silence is all around. There has not been a car to come down the road, since the sun went down. All I hear is the constant beating of my lonely heart. The sun has left me now and the cold of the night is beginning to set in. Instead of going inside to feel the warmth of a freshly lit fire crackling in the fireplace, I sit, wondering why she was taken from me.
Here in our sacred place, I am again alone.
Minute by minute, the night air surrounds me. I feel its unyielding chill, enter my body with every lifeless breath I take. Somehow, with each breath, the chilled air fuels my heart with the energy it needs, to beat just one more time. As my heart beats, I feel the warm subtle flow of blood, pumping through my veins. It lets me know I’m still alive.
“But what of her?” I ask. “Is she still alive somewhere hiding in the cold of the night, calling for her mommy to someday hold her close, just one last time?”
It’s strange the things we think about, when we’ve lost someone close and dear to our heart, especially when that person is a child. Even stranger, is the thought that we could have done things differently, to change the course of what has happened, that has caused us so much pain. Failing to realize, we are not “fully”, in control of our destiny. Even more so, someone else’s. As a result of our loss, our minds go into self-destruct, as we pursue the answers around our loss. We never get over the loss of a loved one, nor do we ever put the memories to rest. We remember the good times and the bad cherrishing every moment that was spent. For me, mostly what I remember, is the day they took her. Deep down inside, I know she is still out there and one day she will be returned to me.
As I wait, the nights continue to get colder, remembering the day they took her...
