We hold on and hurt; and we hurt to hold on.
Believing that our pain keeps them close.
That suffering is the least we can do to honor their loss.
That happiness now is sacrilegious.
And so, we hurt and live, half-dead.
While they gaze at us with loving eyes, unseen. Alive.
Longing, aching, to impress upon our hearts
That they are now well. Free. Joy-filled. Content.
Without regret. As they can only be.
And so, we continue.
Until one day, in one moment, a split second of insight
Reaches through our pain and sinks deep within the pool
Of longing. For life. For laughter.
To live again. Fully.
No.
But our heart hears a whisper: “Live.”
As they wrap us in an embrace. And
Hold us tight, while they hold their breath, and wait.
Will we choose to live half-dead because of them,
to hurt and suffer and berate and rage
for what could have been, but never was to be?
Or
Will we let them hold us, secure in their infinite embrace,
understanding that our pain has run its purpose
and that letting go of The Ache, only brings us closer to
who they are now?
And so, they wait.
For our heart to waken. For us, to realize
That only Living honors Life.
For no one there ever honors death.
Death was but a moment of separation,
Not an end to Being.
And no one has been lost.
But only returned, to Love.