The Hollow Space

sunrise over a lake

Waiting for Hope

There is an empty space hidden deep inside. It cannot be seen or touched. It cannot be filled or healed. It just exists.

Many people have empty spaces. Some have been carefully etched into being by slowly evolving grief. Some have been hacked away by sudden, wrenching loss.

The tears may flow and smooth away some of the roughest edges, filling the nooks and crannies. But the cavern remains. Dark. Empty. Hollow. Continue reading

A Complicated Good-Bye

father and child

My Daddy & Me, 1958

I stood halfway down the street, as straight and tall as a seven year old could stand, sobs wracking my body. About twenty yards from the front of my house, perhaps thirty from the entry to our cul-de-sac, I watched as my father drove away. It was not the first time we had bid each other farewell. It would not be the last. Continue reading