Thirty months now!

      It's now thirty months since Joanne died. Grief certainly recedes to a different reality over time. Does time heal all wounds?  As I've written previously that the raw excruciating pain of the early days of bereavement have morphed into a dull ache. Even that ache is now less present. The isolation of the pandemic would have been hard for her. Likely she'd fill these days with phone banking for favorite candidates which was an activity she enjoyed. Wandering her cemetery I ponder the time spans on the markers of married couples noting how long between their deaths. (Vera lived 40 years after her husband died!)  

     The poems says "And tell you about my day."  Yes, that is a great loss to tell and to listen about our days, which so often were spent apart.

Missing You

© John P. Read 

Still I hear those voices
From a time so long ago.
I see so many faces
But not the one I love and know.

I walk the same old streets,
Hear your footsteps just the same.
How I'd love to wake tomorrow
And walk with you once again.

Just to look into your eyes
And tell you about my day.
It's those little things I miss
Since the day you went away.

I now pray to God in heaven
To keep you in his care,
To comfort you and heal this hurt
Until the day I meet you there.

      Of course I'm really blessed and yet, I really miss her!

Takk for alt,

Al