20 Lines A Day

A Community of Writers and Photographers

Nothingness…

16 Comments

 

I have been away for a bit, some of you know why, my husband has been battling lung cancer since January. He fought a very brave battle but on July 25 between the hours of  5:30am and 6:45am he took his journey to the next level. I am proud to have been able to help him stay home till the end, comfortable and pain free.  Now for those of us left behind the healing begins….

 

 

 

 

People walking back and forth

carrying on with their daily lives,

 

 

Oblivious to the pain felt by those around them,

the deafening agony of loss

searing into the souls of those left behind.

 

Blind to the ache of loss and feelings of no longer belonging.

Life continues on leaving those behind lost

in the fog of memories and tears.

The roar of heartache slices through the skin

like a sharp knife sparing no one and showing no mercy.

To sit and feel a nothingness

is the only choice left

to get through each day.

 

 

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Author: Tia

quiet, creative, challenging

16 thoughts on “Nothingness…

  1. I offer you my condolences, Tia. Bless you for all you have done. Now you have a different kind of work to do. My father also passed from lung cancer. It’s a rough one. You’re in my thoughts.

  2. Oh, sweetheart – I have been wondering about you. You have my condolences and love, and are in my thoughts.

    • Thank you Melissa, this will most certainly give me focus for writing which I typically use in a theraputic way.

  3. So sorry Tia ….I too was wondering about you …my deepest prayers go out to you and your family …

  4. I wish I could help ease the pain. My mom also passed of lunng cancer this past March so I understand the memories, images, smells, and the “business” at hand. Blessing to you and your family. I will add you to my prayers.

    • Yes, the smells, I have been sitting and all of a sudden thought I could smell the cans of liquid I filled the bag with for his feeding tube. And walking into the house I expect him to be there, or I pick up my cell phone to call him. So many changes….

  5. I carried my mom’s last driver’s license — we look very much alike — until my son, who is a police officer, told me that it wasn’t a good idea to do that. And there are certain words that I call “mom words” that she used to say, and whenever I hear one of them it gives me a lurch. It’s strange how the most ordinary things can trigger memories.

    • It was hard surrendering those yesterday, but I kept the personalized lisence plates. Our son who is 17 is very much like his dad. I can’t even begin to imagine how he feels. I lost my dad when I was 26.

  6. So very sorry for your loss…

  7. Oh! I’m really sorry for your loss. May God give you and your family all the strength you need during this difficult time.

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