Just Beyond….

Yes I do,

I believe
That one day I will be,

where I was
Right there, right next to you.
And it’s hard, the days just seem so dark
The moon, and the stars, are nothing without you.

Your touch, your skin, where do I begin?
No words can explain, the way I’m missing you
The night, this emptiness, this hole that I’m inside
These tears, they tell their own story,

You told me not to cry when you were gone,
But the feeling’s overwhelming, it’s much too strong

                                               Can I lay by your side, next to you.

And make sure you’re alright?
I’ll take care of you.
And I don’t want to be here if I can’t be with you tonight.

I’m reaching out to you,
Can you hear my call? (Who’s to say you won’t hear me?)
This hurt that I’ve been through
I’m missing you, missing you like crazy.

You told me not to cry when you were gone
But the feeling’s overwhelming, it’s much too strong
Can I lay by your side, next to you, you
And make sure you’re alright
I’ll take care of you
And I don’t wanna be here if I can’t be with you tonight.

Sam Smith~Lay Me Down


~I imagine, as the door creaks open that she’s standing just beyond my sight in the dining room. She is setting the table for dinner. We have come a long way and she is excitedly preparing for us.
But the room is empty.
 Sun shines through the giant pane windows and you can see the dust flecks settling to the  floor.
She’s not there.
So I walk on towards the den. Surely she is just beyond the door leading into her bedroom. As I cross the threshold of her bedroom, the hardwood floor creaks. I can smell her face cream. It is sticky and sweet and floral. Her lipsticks are scattered on the dresser laying open, without a top. She always lost the tops. 
I laugh at that memory.
She’s not in her room.
I continue though her house. It’s dark, but I know she’s there just beyond the hallway. I can hear her and granddaddy setting up the Christmas tree in the living room. They purchased a giant one this year. The tree scrapes the ceiling.  She has a handful of tinsel and is gingerly draping it on long fir branches. Her fingers are delicate, but strong.  The logs in the fireplace are gas, but roar with life. They decorate with a fever of excitement knowing the house will soon be filled with grandkids and love.
She’s not there.
The gas logs have a layer of dust on them I can’t seem to clear. The pine needles from the tree have long been swept up and the decorations put away.
Her house may not be filled with her body any longer, but her spirit and memories live on. I can close my eyes and visit every room and she is in each one, bustling around. Asking for help with odds and ends. (Knowing I love helping her with anything)
Her memory lives on within my soul. It is a part of me, of who I am.
And she is just beyond the door. ~


Death is nothing at all. It does not count.

I have only slipped away into the next room.

Nothing has happened. Everything remains exactly as it was.

I am I, and you are you, and the old life that we lived so fondly together is

untouched, unchanged.

Whatever we were to each other, that we are still.

Call me by the old familiar name.

Speak of me in the  easy way  which you always used.

Put no difference into your tone.

Wear no forced air of solemnity or sorrow.

Laugh as we always laughed at the little jokes that we enjoyed with each other.

Play, smile, think of me, pray for me.

Let my name be ever the household word that it always was.

Let it be spoken without an effort, without the ghost of a shadow upon it.

Life means all that it ever meant. It is the same as it ever was.

There is absolute and unbroken continuity.

What is this death but a negligible accident?

Why should I be out of mind because I am out of sight?

I am but waiting for you, for an interval,

somewhere very near,

just around the corner.

All is well.

~Henry Scott Holland