The silence of a falling star
Lights up a purple sky
And as I wonder where you are
I’m so lonesome I could cry.
~Hank Williams, I’m So Lonesome I Could Cry, 1949
I stand looking at the front door. I remember the joy and excitement we felt as we carried our belongings into this new place we would call home. This was the fulfillment of an important promise that I made to you when you said yes to marrying me. I promised that when I was ready to retire from the Marine Corps, I would bring you back to Georgia and build you your dream house. This mass of wood, brick, drywall, pipes, conduit, and carpet would become our home – a place filled with so much joy and wonderful memories.
I turn and take a few steps down a short hallway and enter the opening of the kitchen. I can see us working together to prepare a meal for each other, a feast for our family, or a simple dessert to spoil our grandchildren and great-grandchildren. We would talk, laugh, swap a quick kiss, and share a hug when everything was ready.
I walk around the counter and stand between the bar and the breakfast nook with the table and chairs we picked out together. Each night I would come home, you would have dinner ready and we would sit at the bar to eat while sharing the details of our day. In the breakfast nook, we would sit with our daughters and their husbands and get caught up on their lives and the grandkids or we would have a cup of coffee with dear friends as laughter warmed our home.
A few more steps and I am standing next to your recliner. I remember you sitting there watching the television, answering texts from the girls, family, or your friends, playing games on your tablet, talking on your phone – always smiling – never complaining about your pain or how tired you felt.
The best part was late at night when we would just talk for an hour before heading to bed. Just you and me – alone – and still so in touch with each other – still excited to just be together – still so much in love.
I walk by the sofa we got from our older daughter – the one she said was so uncomfortable she just couldn’t keep it. You thought it was pretty and would look good in the family room so you offered to take it off her hands so she could get a new sofa. I smile thinking how ironic it was that every time she visited, she had to sit on the very sofa she thought was uncomfortable but that you liked.
And now I am back at the front door. I will walk this circle again and again – reliving memories of you – the joy you brought into so many lives – the sound of your voice and laughter that always made me smile – the love I felt every day I was with you. I will walk this circle as I remember your final days and what an honor it was caring for you in the place we called home because that is where you wanted to be at the end. I will walk this circle and remember saying goodbye – holding onto you as you took your last breath. I will walk this circle and remember walking with you as you were taken out of the front door of our home for the very last time. I will walk this circle and feel the weight of the loneliness that encircles me and I will cry.
But the tears will slowly stop flowing – and I will continue to walk this circle – once again remembering the joy I experienced because I had you in my life for so many wonderful years. I will walk this circle again until the tears come again. I will walk this circle with a better understanding of why Hank Williams said, “… I’m so lonesome I could cry.”
Hi, Len.
I’m so new to this site and yet your piece greatly moved me to tears. Somehow, I understand the gap, the hole, the yearning and the wishing. Perhaps it’s your heartfelt writing. Thank you. Sending courage and love. Ruthie
Ruth,
Thank you for reading my piece and sharing how this piece touched your heart. Your comment tells me that I found the right words to express emotions that are hard to face at times. Welcome to our family. I hope you find more articles that move you.
Thank you 🙏. I know that I will. Most certainly.
Len, you know that since the first times we connected and spoke, I have always considered you a friend, far away physically, but not because of esteem and respect.
I know this is a terribly difficult time for you and I am so sorry for your loss. I wish I could take your pain away, but I know I can’t. All I can do is stand by your side (though unfortunately only virtually) as you go through it.
I hope that the love of those who love you will help you to overcome the pain and that the pain will slowly give way to many beautiful memories. Be strong in this time of deep sadness.
When you can, talk about it with those who inspire trust in you and welcome you warmly, also share your experiences and your emotions.
Please know that if you need to talk, or if there is anything else I can do to help you, don’t hesitate to tell me.
With all my fraternal friendship.
My dear friend, Aldo. Your words of encouragement lift my spirit and warm my heart. It is with great affection that I come to the BC360 community and share my experience because here, I have always found support. So, thank you for your wisdom, your insightful comment, and most importantly, your friendship.
Thank you, Len, for sharing your beautiful relationship with your wife. This passage is one of the hardest you will traverse, and yet all of us on the bench are with you in a way that is invisible, but strong, like the sound of the wind or the sea–or the hand of the Creator. Holding you in so much love and care!
Susanne, thank you for your kind words and support. It is comforting to know I have friends to support me during this time.
Thank you for putting your words out for us to read, Len. Thank you for not closing yourself us but let us in.
When my father died, the priest said that grief was love that had nowhere to go. Much love would lead to much grief – but it could be shared when others help carry it. I felt that when we put him to rest and so many people showed up to help us carry it. And I felt it coming from this 360 community when my mother passed. I hope you will feel it, too, knowing that your words will resonate in many hearts, bring tears in many eyes, and all those hearts will for a step or more walk next to yours in spirit as you do your rounds.
Charlotte – Thank you for your encouraging words. You know exactly what I am experiencing so I truly appreciate you reaching out to me. Bless you are you also deal with your losses.
Len, I’m so very sorry for your loss. I can feel your grief in every word. I can’t imagine the labored steps around your house and the memories in every room. All the Marine training can’t prepare you for what happens when the one who completes you is gone. God bless you in your life that remains.
Thank you, Jane, for you kind words and understanding. This has been really hard. My grief counselor is encouraging me to write so my emotions are released so that is what I am going to try and do.