A year has passed since my trembling lips rested on your forehead. Even now your last words still hang close to my right ear like a sweet comfort against the harrowing screams vibrating the hospital corridor. I have yet to find enough courage to cement the pain ebbing and flowing from within and all lost words and what ifs have propelled its way through me, crash landing into my solitude. I am again at war with my darker side from which the births of distraction and idleness have become my drugs.
I must confess life has taken the romance out of me, but do you remember how I would stealthily hand pick a neighbour’s rose as a gratitude of my love? Even if it would result in a prick of blood, it was worth it – to embrace your smile and be enveloped in your hug. Without a souvenir to press against my thoughts and no elder to indulge my suffering upon, this new life style has taken a toll upon my heart. No longer are the days where I could cry invisibly on your shoulders at the sound of your voice.
Whilst I yearn to know what adventure you are laughing your way through now, I still have old age to entertain my wild fires and unfinished chapters to explore in this physical sphere. Battered and bruised, I am citizen of life and a universe of strength, and though the winter chill licks the air, the Christmas tree lights, family, and friends keep me warm. A candle is lit in your memory and laid down is a bright yellow rose where you once so vividly expressed yourself.
Until the re-opening of our intertwined dimensions, travel in the knowledge that all that which you hold dear is forever growing safely.
Peace, love and harmonic blessings.
(Pamela Hill: Big Bang 25/05/1963 – Evolution 03/12/2010)