The Dark Night of the Soul
Sometimes the world feels dark to me. Dark and lonely. Yesterday was one of those days. I do not know what today will be, yet. I am feeling her absence most deeply. I see different scenes from our life flicker through my head like old 35mm film. It feels so real. It was real. And now, it is just surreal. She is dead. And I am not. I do not want to dwell in this. But I do. It is my penance. It is the dark night of my soul. By this week, last year, it was over. Her body was still animated, but she was already gone. Still, I stood loving watch over her for five more days. Waiting for the inevitable. There was no return from where she was gone. And then she was. . . gone
And I was not. I was still here. Gut-wrenching sobs ensued. Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine this would be our story. And yet, it was. I watched my sister dress my wife, just as she had done for my mother five months earlier. Some horrible, twisted rerun of life. And then I stood in the driveway and watched the hearse take my beautiful wife away, and I knew I would never, ever see her again in this lifetime.
I have no context for this. I am empty.