Please, don’t try to tell me it that she is in a better place, no, I want her here with me, that would be the best place
Please, do not try to convince me that it comes to each of us, yes, ok maybe, but.. just not yet
And please, do not ever say to me hush, for I will not be hushed. I will scream at the top of my lungs, I will holla unashamedly, like a baby, and when I am done I will grab the tissue box sitting beside my chair and blow my nose, then slowly I will shred each square into a million tiny pieces
And then, when the day draws to its close I shall sit cross-legged among the darkened shadows in my darkened parlor, and be as silent as the grave, not a whisper, except the tauntings of my own awakened breaths bleating in my chest.
And now so heavy and weary with sobbing all day and numbed with disbelief that she’d been taken away far too soon. No time for rehearsed goodbyes grabbed away swiftly prior to the dawning of our dream.
I thought I’d sit there in the darkness until my skin cleaved to my bones and rot, I also thought about ordering several tubs of ice-cream and chips and that I would gobble them down until I was sick and swelled to bursting, then I would block out. And I totally blocked out.
As the new day dawned there were no more shadows. It seemed that I had drifted off to sleep somewhere between reaching for the telephone and it falling from my tired swollen fingers and it was now lying on the floor making a horrible hissing sound of an analog female voice prompt ‘please replace the handset’ echoing over and over into the silence.
I replaced the handset and laid there in the stillness for what seems an eternity. It was surreal, and I would see her face this one last time, it was so delicate. My eyes were open but I felt as if I was in a dream. It appeared as though she was standing by the window directly across the room from where I was lying, with arms outstretched in front of her in an invitation to hug, and as I was about to lower my feet to the floor, just like the disappearing silhouette of a shadow, she was gone.
The early morning breeze floated through the slightly open window, gently moving the thin white curtains from side to side. I stared towards the window watching the rise of the glistening morning sun in play and took a deep breath filling my stomach, lungs heart and brain, well, at least that is what it felt like. What happened next was incredible, I exhaled, and it was all gone. All the pain, all the agony, all the anger and torment of yesterday had subsided, and a real sense of acceptance and peace washed over me.
The healing process afterward was slow with sporadic bouts of tears, and although I was never to envisage her face again, I know that it is etched eternally on my soul never to be erased. With time the sting of death finally lost its grip and gave way to the joyful light of a new dawn.
‘Joy Comes in the Morning’ written by Dawnecia Palmer (In memory of Charmain Watson 1971-Jan 2020)
