Absence stares you in the face

An empty easy chair. A certain empty seat at the table. A voicemail unanswered. A punchline with less laughter. A job unfilled. Empty shoes. A tractor with no rider. A picture with no life for comparison. A question with no answers. Staring at absence. Visualizing presence. Wishing for life.

I had no idea of the power of grief. The power of absence. The world without Mike. Everyday I wake up I am reminded as absence stares back at me. It glares, it penetrates. How can nothing look back at me and hurt so much? Isn't absence the opposite of presence? Nothing the opposite of something? Nothing can hurt me. Something can. But in this case, it is the opposite. If you are confused, welcome to my world.

I promised to post others' sentiments and memoirs of Mike. I am still collecting those. I wish to post more of that and less of me. I thank each of you for continuing to share this painful journey, however. For me, writing is a way to express and vent. I can write better than I can speak my feelings. My tongue is mute when it comes to speaking my feelings of this loss. If only I could silence the angst in my head. Relieve the angst in my body.

No one told me that grief manifests physically. Maybe they did. I don't remember. But I know it showed up. It stares at me. It cuts me. It hurts me.

On behalf of the entire Mike Watson Family, thank you for your continued prayers and support.
Love,
Rhonda