My world is … broken … shattered. In pieces, like a mirror struck by a fist. silver shards strewn at my feet. Afraid to walk for fear I may pierce myself and bleed uncontrollably.
My Papa left me first to go to a better place. Every time I hear the call of geese, and ducks, my heart breaks again and soars into nothingness. Tears trickle down my cheeks and a miniature golf-sized ball settles in my throat.
I bandaged his and mum’s bird-feeder one day so I could fill it with bird seeds. They loved to feed and watch the birds. I will do a better job at it when I get a chance. I need to do this for them you see. Both have moved where I can’t call them on the phone anymore. I miss their laughter, their joking around, and them being there for me when I had a problem. I’ve had a few lately.
Rather than fill my planter containers at my home, I decided to fill there’s. Mum always had flowers. She would sit on her swing and the hummingbirds soared by to get at the feeder for nectar. This is a new deck built the year before she died. I want her to be pleased if per chance she is amongst the cloud of witnesses. I need her to know I haven’t forgotten her. Her impression of her old home is rather important to me.
I stopped in yesterday feeling empty. The clouds mimicked my heart. They rolled and rumbled sounding a bit troubled. When I was a small child and Papa was away at work, I would worry terribly when a storm was building steam. One day, he moseyed in just as a wicked storm with loud thunder, flashes of lightning, and a mighty wind came through. Once he entered the door, my heart was at peace. My fears evaporated thinking that all would be well now that Papa was home.
These clouds gave me hope. Tomorrow will be better. Learning to let go is hard. Not letting go is even harder. But I’m not ready. Lord, forgive me while I weep. I won’t and can’t do it yet. I will when I am able.