image by Isabelle de Sa Moreira

… and then they’re gone.

And here we are, expected to go on. Living life with this gaping hole in our heart.

Left with questions unanswered, and words never said.
All those words we wished we said…


What was the last thing we said to them, those who have gone away?

Did we say “I love you”?
Or “See you next week”?

Did we say “Thank you for all that you’ve given me”?
or “Please pass the salt”?

Did we impart upon them how much they truly meant to us,
and how grateful we were for everything they did for us?

Did we hug, or wave our hands?

Is it the last thing, the last moment, that matters most?

Or was it the hundred thousand moments all cobbled together creating the mosaic of the times we shared.

A mosaic of our lives together, a colage of moments and memories, of love and anger, happiness and sadness. Long conversations, and long stretches of silence. Profound and mundane. The novel and the same.


And now what?

Is the mosaic finished, the work of art complete?
Is it ready to be hung on a wall? Static and unchanging, the end of the story?

Or is it that every time we look upon our co-created work of art, our patchwork of brushstrokes, we are adding to it?

Every time we remember, we connect with those times, we bring the past into the now, we add something new to our art?
A new shading, a new play of light upon the canvas.
As long as the picture hangs it is still a part of us. It is still alive in our memories.
We look and find details we thought forgotten, and those memories help us in the now.
Those insights given to us then, come back to us when we need them most.

Those joys touch us when we’re feeling low.
Those moments remind us of who we are, where we have been, the paths walked and the lessons learned.

Those will not be lost.

They are ours to keep.

Gifts given to us.


At times we scream out wondering how they could be taken from us.
What cruel creator could take from us that which matters so much.
How can we be asked to go on with such pain and emptiness.

How is this fair
What kind of love is this

Why would you leave me, when I still need you


But there it is, in the back of our minds, in the hole in our heart

A warmth brought back through memories, a love that is never extinguished.

You may be gone, but never forgotten, never truly lost.

You made me see so much in myself.

You made me see so much of who I am, who I can be.

You made me… me.


Do we speak of our love in past tenses?

“I loved you”

Or is it eternal?

“I LOVE You,

and I always will”


Nothing truly gone, merely changing shape and form.

Energy conserved, all things preserved.

Love eternal.


And we wonder…

Did they ever know how much I truly cared, how much they truly meant to me?

Of course they did.

It couldn’t be put into words, it couldn’t be summed up in three words, ten phrases, a hundred paragraphs, or a thousand books.

It was felt, in a million moments.
Times together, and those apart.

It was real,
tactile in it’s own way.

A feeling

It never needed words.


The end reveals all.

Passing from one world to the next, all is revealed.

Our heart against the feather.

Our kindnesses, our cruelties.

The joy we brought, the sadness we wrought.

Love & heartbreak.



And we see those we left behind.

And we know…

We were loved.


There are no words that can make it easier.

It’s all in a feeling.

We know what we felt,

What we continue to feel.

And that’s what matters.


That’s what matters.



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