Living so close to the edge, stretched so thin, margins smaller than a pinhead.
Each day, never knowing what kind of a day it will be.
Left alone. Upside down. Wondering why.
It tumbles again and again.
Depression naps to sleep the pain away.
All the grief no one talks about. All the grief no one can hear.
Family leaves. Searing words of hatred and doors slammed shut on relationships that were held open by a dying man.
The shallowness of his breath. His body shift from yellow to gray.
And one breath turned into none.
We feel it. Whether it’s a day you’re unable to get out of bed, scroll through private pictures of him unconscious lying beside our bed in his own hospital bed, death looming.
Or a day hope blooms in your heart and the sun shines brightly.
We never know what lies ahead that day.
We are widowed. 💙
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