Poem on the Passing of My Wife

Did a great Nothing swallow you whole, my darling?

Have you gone to ashes, buried next to the walnut tree in New Jersey, in the back yard of your family?

Is the same swelling of the legs that immobilized you creeping up my body?

I sat on our front porch smoking a cigarette looking at the wild cherry tree full of pink buds---this is your spring coming on in the hills of Carolina.

Were you a collection of elements driven by unknown forces? Have you gone back to the beginning? What beginning?

This is not my season for reassurances.

I don't rest in full knowledge that your essence is still whole somewhere brimming.

Spring is relentless in the hills around our home---fat cardinals are building a nest near an upstairs window. Is that you orchestrating a message? I'm told I need to drink more water and stop eating salt, when all I want is salt.

I wasn't with you at the clinic when you died. I'm told a nurse was combing your hair and singing to you when you stopped breathing, when you'd had enough suffering. You had many plans---the house is full of your things. I think a stray thought and by habit it refers to you. This is not the season for reassurances. This is not the time for a life without you. Are you in some cottage by the sea waiting for us?

In a week or so our wild cherry tree will be spilling with white flowers from every branch. Will you be there? For me, yes. Our house is surrounded by high deep forest. Hundreds of trees. As a boy, trees were my first love. You are my second---and much greater love. My darling.

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Jon Rappoport

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Comment by Doc Vega on March 24, 2019 at 12:55pm: Losing a spouse even if the relationship was at times difficult is the worst blow one can ever absorb and survive as an adult other than maybe the loss of a child. It is a trauma that is hard to recover from and will haunt one a long time. Pray to God for healing. My condolences.

Comment by Sweettina2 on March 22, 2019 at 6:23pm: I am so sorry, my brother. I love what dogitydog said, it's so true. Life is so bittersweet, makes us afraid to try it again.

Our life, and peace, are not of this earth. This is the bus station, the stopping off point on the way to where we're going. Our destination is in sight. Just going to be a bumpy ride, but it'll happen in its own good time, when it's supposed to.

Hold your family tight, squeeze all the love you can from them. Read scripture, listen to God, break down and cry, pound the wall, and thank the Lord that you had a love that the entire world searches for.

God bless you, Chris. Love you, brother. I'm here if you need me. T

Comment by ron proul on March 22, 2019 at 1:18am: The patchwork of memories woven into a lifetime of sharing, knowing that no one else has or can share them or understand the complexities of the uniqueness shared by marital bond lasting beyond this life to be shared again at your next meeting.

Comment by dogitydog on March 21, 2019 at 11:47pm: The soul is eternal. Death is what happens to the temporary container we call the human body that we reside in during our 3D earth experience. Time, which is exclusive to our physical reality, is the only thing keeping you separated. My sincere condolences.

Comment by James Roberts on March 21, 2019 at 8:17pm: Thanks for posting. My real soulmate, I ignored her advances because I am never unfaithful. But in retrospect, I should have accepted her. We's have been happy for life. She sought out men who had a superficial resemblance to me, in various ways. But all of them were abusive, and it ended in her dying of a heroin overdose when she was 32, three years ago. I still think about her at least an hour a day. I'll see you at some point, Heather Nicole...