I wander aimlessly through the house~
and run my hands over the walls.
I hate the echoes of silence that resound throughout this dwelling.
I see your cigarette butts in your unemptied ashtray~
I remember how I used to beg you to stop smoking.
What I would give to see a curl of smoke float into a halo over your head just once more!
I see a shirt of yours that was thrown carelessly to the floor.
I lift it to my face and bury my sorrow into its fabric.
I inhale your scent and I wonder how this emotionless material could contain the scent of your life while you are underground.
I glance at a picture of us on the wall.
You were smiling in your goofy way with a gleam in your eye.
Your arm around my shoulder holding me tight.
I lay on our bed and pine for your hands to caress me just one more time.
Tears roll down my face in silent testimony to my pain.
How can you be cold and stiff while I can still recall the warmth of your touch?
I get up and walk out to the garden and see the flowers you planted for me.
They are blooming now and the petals are full of color and sweet aroma.
I see the blossoms as an accusation and the scent as condemnation.
I turn to go back into our house that is full or memories and nothing more.
And something flashes and catches my eye.
It is your shiney gold wedding ring that I set on the mantel after they took it off of you, never to be worn again.

Copyright 1999 Heather Bahnmaier. All Rights Reserved.

Grief Recovery Online for All Bereaved (GROWW)

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