by Matsuo Basho
through the bamboo grove;
a cuckoo crying.
It is difficult to describe the day-to-day journey of living without
Nickolas. I do not sleep well. My thoughts are fragmented and I feel
lost in a world not of my own choosing. I don't know how to escape this
place where I must now dwell for the rest of my life. The summer days
roll on, each a reminder of the all that Nick suffered at the hands of
a cruel fate that he did not deserve. I am swept along in the turbulent
waters of a powerful emotional tsunami. I have no control over this
liquid pain. The memories wash over me. There is dangerous debris
floating along in these murky depths; they strike out and cause injury
when I least expect it. Suddenly I find my arms and legs entangled and
I am helpless to fight another day. I feel the undertow and my weary
body no longer wants to fight. I relive the final days of Nick's life
once again. The day of Nick's death looms near. I am so angry that it
will soon be an entire year that I have lived without him. How is that
possible? I don't want to live without Nick.
I don't know what to do. I am so tired. Sometimes I just want to stop being. I just want to stop. Is
there a switch somewhere that I can flip to shut this down for a while?
Forever? I wish I could explain how horrible it feels to be reminded
over and over again that Nickolas is forever gone from our lives.
I love you Nick. I miss you so much. This poem reminds me of you hiking the Appalachian Trail. When
you are done with your hike, please come home. Mom
The Road was lit with Moon and star ~Emily Dickinson
The Road was lit with moon and star --
The Trees were bright and still --
Descried I - by the distant light
A traveler on a hill --
To magic Perpendiculars
Ascending, though Terrene --
Unknown his shimmering ultimate --
But he indorsed the sheen --