I have been reading about story, about the story we are each living, about the story that has been breathed into us. And I am wondering, what happens when a part of your story is no longer there? Yesterday, we said goodbye to a woman who was a mother, sister, friend, but also a wife. Now he sits next to an empty space.
I know he will miss her.
I could see it in his face, that blank look, head held so still,
as if he didn’t want to look and see that she was not there.
I cannot imagine the pain of that empty space she has left behind.