Death is the absence
of life. It is the white space on a painting, an empty hospital bed, a silent
room, a closet of clothes. Death is the extinction of a species of only one. I
closed my eyes. I woke, and he was gone. They took his body in the night. They
came for the bed and the wheelchair by noon. We reduced his life to a photo and
two columns in the newspaper. We sang his favorite songs. We spoke, “he was
good friend, a wonderful father and an average golfer.”
Emotion is the currency of all good writers. But what if there is no emotion? What if death brings not regret, or anger, or longing, or even peace, but rather echoes? Did he call my name? I turned my head. Was that him, walking into his office?
Where is the salty taste of my tears? I become white space.
Can someone please
tell me how to feel?
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Why was the book Dune by Frank Herbert so successful?
Most people would probably say world-building.
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I woke at two in the morning from a nightmare in which I was being hunted by an assassin. In the dream, desperate to get away, I hid on the third floor of an abandoned building. I remember looking out the dirty windows and seeing the assassin below in the parking lot looking up at me. He was tracking my cell phone.
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Death is the absence of life. It is the white space on a painting, an empty hospital bed, a silent room, a closet of clothes. Death is the extinction of a species of only one. I closed my eyes. I woke, and he was gone. They took his body in the night. They came for […]
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These are my goto gems, the sentences that keep me writing, that whisper, “you can do better.”
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I suppose there were opioids in my IV. I remember eating a three-foot-long, hot-pink centipede. I was a trifle worried. It was Lent. Does centipede count as meat?
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Powerful and beautifully written. And I think most of us have been there.
Hi Veronica, I’m still learning WordPress. I wasn’t certain you received my reply to your thoughtful comment. Thank you, Kidd
Yes, death brings absence – that space where once there was something, someone. Your tribute is lovely and moving.
Thank you, Dianna
The hollow emptiness one feels after losing a parent, is as individual as a fingerprint. When I lost my parents, each bore a different melancholy. Thank you sharing this.
Thank you for your understanding comment. I was sitting in the church like an ice cube, while everyone around me was crying.