WHERE YOU SHOULD BE

Even the bright sunshine doesn't help much. This continues to be the hardest thing anyone can be asked to do. It's not as though Gwen decided to spend a weekend in Chicago with her mother and sister.  I could actually enjoy that a little, a nice change in routine, play golf all day, eat some junk food.  Still, the bed would feel empty at night, that never changes no matter the circumstances.  It continues to be so hard to awake each morning and realize that Gwen is no longer on the face of the earth.  Everything she stood for, everything she was, is gone.  Her ashes on the mantel attest to that.  It's maybe impossible to come to grips with it.  At least, right now, for me it is, and all I can do is keep alive the faith and hope that bound us in love for 50 years..  I wrote something about this:

WHERE YOU SHOULD BE

I pat the place next to me on the bed

where you should be.

I cry because you aren’t there.

I see your picture and I cry

because it’s you I want

not your picture.

I cry because I miss your warm body,

not a memory of it.

The place next to me remains empty.

Like all those Sunday nights,

the empty seat next to me

 warm from our farewell embrace

a sad good-bye wave

the long drive home.

I know you wait

with a heart full of love

and I will see you again

running to meet me

your arms open wide.

The empty place holds you near.

John A. Bayerl, 2-24-11

Most of all, I miss what we shared all those years.  Is it even reasonable to think perhaps that could be forgotten?  Or replaced?  I think not.