#732056 added December 9, 2011 at 7:57am Restrictions: None
He's Still Here
I get lost, sometimes, in the pain and grief of being left here without my Tom. Then a voice enters my soul, my very being, and quietly whispers, I’m still with you, kid. And just for a moment, I realize he hasn’t left at all. Here’s a story I wrote as I imagined what it would be like to talk to Tom again:
Excerpt:
A tattered and worn file is brought forth from the dusty vaults of my mind. I close my eyes as I unconsciously rock on the porch of the cabin and clearly see his familiar large frame. His loving eyes of emerald-green look into my soul, and my heart aches. Images cause the corners of my lips to rise: the thick curls of his tousled gray hair, the tilt of his head, his playful smile.
The smell from the surrounding woods is poignantly earthy. I can feel his presence in the twilight breeze. His voice drifts in across the valley and settles in the still rocker next to me.
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