I may no longer hear that audible voice that once so long ago awoke my inner being, the one that so happily chased the night away each morning, but that of her heart is still very near.
And as I prepare to face the long hours of night once again, through thankful tears, I bid the day, and all of its beauty adieus, knowing not if morning should come, while praying for the strength to face another day without her in it, if God, in His master plan, should bid it in such a way.
To allow me the resilience to greet the day and my fellow man with a smile, to have the eyes to see the beauty of the day, and the needs of others, helping where I might throughout the day, knowing not if another chance might come my way.
And then retreating home where once her smile and laughter met me, now I only see her image in a picture hanging on a wall, put there for the world and me to see; her accurate image now only seen in the continuum of space within my mind, which now seems to periodically stand still for me.
Oh, how I long for those days of old when her warm smile from across the table would make my coffee and the start of my day so much better when her presence would brighten those gray days and warm those chilly mornings; and the unspoken sense of stability and comfort her presence brought into my life that now, though only remembered, helps to hold it together.
