I’m never prepared for departure.
I can only make each moment count.
When death comes, everything becomes heavy with
disbelief and shock.
Then comes fighting against the truth of it.
Crying, while saying things like NO! and WHY?
Sometimes I feel jilted out of saying my goodbye.
The anger, the longing, and sorrow!
That gap between the last time we spoke,
and the day they left this earth is a haunted space.
That space feels unsteady, slippery, and precarious.
I wander barefoot, feeling lost and cold.
Time stretches out so long and thin when people die.
I am left behind wishing for their warmth,
scent, and the sound of their voice.
When you go,I’ll be holding onto your soul,
for when we meet again.
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