Years have gone by and I continue to live under a dark veil of sadness. No sun reaches the pale skin locked inside this place, my self-made prison. I walk the hallways slowly these days of darkness and touch the squeaky banisters, one day someone will fall. The smell assaults my senses old people are dying here.
I walk as quickly as I can, back to the safety of what will be my last living place. I drink down the hot, dark chicory liquid; I wait in hope that sleep will carry me away. Once again, I wake; the light comes without sunshine, damn the pain. Another day of grieving, another moment in time, I live from moment to moment in grief. Someone is knocking, can they not read the sign on my door, DO NOT DISTURB.
Family, questions the sign; can they not see that I do not want to see people in this place that I call “God’s Waiting Room”; I do not want to make friends here in this house of the dying. My life changed forever on the hot summer day when my heart ripped apart and my soul crumbled. Years have gone by and I continue to live under the dark veil of sadness, since my daughter’s death, I only feel unforgiving sadness.
AUTHOR’S NOTE: All humans have or will be touched by the hands of death during their lifetime. To lose a child is an un-measureable grief. You will close your eyes tight and hope when you open them those lost will be standing in front of you. When you go to bed at night that is the last thing on your mind and the first when you wake the following day. Then you realize it is not some cruel joke that is being played on you, it is real, too real. The outward pretense that you show the world is insane to you. You smile and everyone thinks that you are happy. Beneath that façade is a place of horror, hell’s fire burns from within. It is called “Grief” and it will not leave you.