Gone, But Not Forgotten
Dear friend, old friend, as I see you laid out there unmoving, unknowing in death, my heart breaks. People say, “well he is gone to a better place” and is that supposed to comfort us. The sadness of the loss of your life, your friendship, your joy, your love, your confidence, your smile and laugh, is still there. You may be in a better place, but we sure aren’t.
We wish you were here to help us through this. We need your special ability to comfort our deep anguish. We will not see you again, shake your hand, embrace you, and say to you, “how are you doing” and enjoy your answer; “never better,” as you give us that familiar wonderful smile that warms our heart and make us feel like everything is fine, since you are here.
Death is a thief and cold dirty assassin that kills and steals lives away with no remorse. In the middle of all our living, it suddenly appears and cuts through the middle of everything, like a knife through our hearts. It is the great interrupter. Everything you were doing, accomplishing, working on, worrying about, planning, and expecting was suddenly just over, done for, with no warning. Now, what can we do but sit here in emptiness, left behind, and mourn the loss; try to carry on with an impossible burden without your help, without your strength, without you, that made our lives something better, something stronger, something fun, something bearable. But now, this awful silence, this awful darkness. I may sound angry and perhaps I am, but not at you or anyone, just death.
I know, I know, we must trudge on and do the best we can with this large hole in our hearts that can’t be filled. Is there an answer, a solution; what can we do but cry and remember the good things about you and those wonderful memories of your life. It’s like the loss of a valuable treasured object that has been smashed and can never be repaired or replaced.
There is just no comfort that can relieve this pain except the balm of time, which covers it over, but never heals it. Here I am months later and I think about you almost every day, when I see a car like your’s or a place you liked to eat. But, it’s slowly getting, at least, bearable and I try to only think of the good things, the enjoyable memories about your life that flavored all our lives, like a delicate and wonderful spice.
You’re gone, but not forgotten, as if we ever could. And then, every once in awhile, I see you in a dream, your face shining, smiling and I hear you say softly, “I’m fine, I’m here waiting for all of you, see you in awhile.” And, then I whisper back, “yes, see you in awhile.”
