Remembering grief stories

stevewaldrop The Bard of Commaful
Autoplay OFF   •   2 years ago
The old man stared out the window of the airport. Remembering...


by Profe Steve

He stands at the window, The teeming crowd behind Faded to a soft buzz. In the distance, planes emerge one by one from the mist.

They glide softly down to the tarmac, Carrying lovers reuniting, Children returning home, Wide-eyed visitors, Hearts filled with hope of new experiences.

A solitary drop of salty moisture Slides silently down the gray-forested valleys Of his cheek. In vain he awaits her return. In vain he hopes as each silver bird Approaches to disgorge its human cargo.

He remembers the day she left, So full of hope and dreams, Her heart bursting with plans Of changing the world. “I will return,” she whispered between Fervid kisses. “Wait for me.”

He waited. In vain he lingered, building a home She would share Once her youthful adventures ended.

With a sigh, He turns from the window, Leaving his heart behind As he plods silently back to the home He built in anticipation of her return.

The home she would never see; The nest that would never know her laughter, Nor the soft sighs of love.

Gently arms close around him warmly. “She died doing what made her happy, Papi,” …the voice of the infant daughter he raised alone, “ministering to the people of her ancestors.”

The two of them quietly wept together As the stream of airport travelers swirled around them, Leaving a small eddy of grief and remembrance In the stream of life flowing ever on, Ever on.

*** This is a work of fiction. The events are not true although today is the 42nd anniversary of the day my first love passed into eternity. I will always remember.

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