A Life Unfinished ...

It hangs in mid-air,

swaying through the trees,

like an echo,

sometimes,

and other times,

like a scream. 

That life unfinished, 

the one we didn't get to have,

because you died. 

It lingers there, 

in the breeze,

like a hundred-thousand question marks,

and never any answer. 

That life unfinished haunts me sometimes. 

I wish I had a book I could read,

that told the rest of our story. 

What would have happened,

had you not died. 

All the things, 

the many things,

that remain,

as part our future,

now only in my mind. 

It messes with me,

sometimes. 

That life. 

 

What would our home have looked like?

Would we have moved to New York, like we talked about?

Or would we have had the family we smiled and laughed about,

while lying in bed, holding hands, 

dreaming of the future. 

Would we have been pregnant?

Maybe that wouldnt have worked out,

at my age, 

maybe it would have been difficult,

or not possible. 

I dont know. 

Maybe we would have adopted, 

the way you wanted to, 

the way you talked about helping out a kid,

who needed us. 

Would we have grown old together?

Yes. 

I like to think so. 

I like to think that if you had lived

we would have been together forever,

until we got very old, 

and then maybe we could be one of those couples

that I am so jealous of,

who die only weeks or days or hours 

apart, 

because their connection is that vital, 

and they simply cannot go on,

without the other. 

 

But that's not what happened. 

No.

You died.

And I died. 

Except I had to keep on living. 

And that,

was by far,

the hardest thing I have ever done. 

Figuring out this world,

without you in it. 

It's hard. 

Really impossibly hard.

And even though I have found my joy again,

and I am beginning 

my next great love story, 

ours never finished, 

and I carry that wonder

and that cloudy horizon

with me,

in a jar that is my heart. 

 

And when I miss you, 

I try to imagine pieces 

of that life,

and what it might look like now. 

 

Does it help?

Sometimes. 

Not always. 

But it makes me smile,

to think of us being content and old,

still holding hands,

as we walk down the street. 

It makes me feel satisfied,

to put together the rest of our puzzle,

even if its only in my imagination. 

 

For my dreams and images,

are so much more peaceful to live with, 

than the haunting,

of a life unfinished. 


Showing 3 reactions

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  • Linda Oesterle
    commented 2019-02-12 20:32:40 -0800
    I am still in the unfinished life. Wondering and dreaming of what should or could have been. Not sure when, but hopefully will one day be in the more peaceful dreams to live with :(. Thank you for sharing and giving me something to reach for…..
  • Karen Lawrence
    commented 2019-02-12 18:16:31 -0800
    This.
  • Don Yacona
    commented 2019-02-08 15:07:13 -0800
    Right where I am these days. Thank you