And, so the day fell to night…

with no answers.  We walk through these days, all falling to nights where we sleep little, and think too much.  Our minds are disturbed by visions of unthinkable ends, none of them verified, none denied. 

No mercy for the sleepless ghosts of times gone by.  The ghosts of time gone by, whether sleepless or in dream stage, haunt our waking hours where we walk and act like there is reason to believe, reason to hope.  Is there?  And, does anyone notice? 

The abyss, the place into which we fall nightly, is nothing more than a truckstop on our way to sobs that wake us from the falsehood that is purported to be rest.  True rest would free us from the agony of processing thought without fuel.  Our tanks are on fumes.

Hope used to be something we clung to as involuntarily as breathing.  Instead, most everything seems trivial, meaningless, worthless.  Then, by the grace of a forgiving – and giving best friend, son, husband, or coworker, we are allowed to laugh, and all is right with the world…for a few seconds in an otherwise overcast day. 

All days feel overcast now.  Subdued.  No excitement.  No joy. No sun.  Flatlined, and still alive, intubated with hope.  That thing, hope, once the tube is extracted, will die, too.  It…hope, is in fact, the last thing to die.

So, we end our evenings with mega-doses of Vitamin B, calcium, magnesium, Vitamin D, and zinc, hoping for nothing more than to see the sunshine in each morning’s toilet bowl.  (If you are not familiar with the extrications of Vitamin B, get familiar.  It could save your life someday.)

Owen saved our lives with hope.  And, there’s the answer to tonight’s questions.  Owen is gone from this life, but hope is still alive…and Owen is alive and laughing at our friends’ silly conversations with us about life and love.  All good, all forgiving, all hopeful.

Goodnight, sweet dreams, and I hope you wake up tomorrow with a bowl full of sunshine.  I will.

Song for the night: Helplessly Hoping ( I believe I’ve posted this one before, but it makes no difference, as we may forever be…helplessly hoping.)   This YouTube version is for Carla…


~ by Linda on September 10, 2007.

3 Responses to “And, so the day fell to night…”

  1. I needed that video. All the alliteration in that song is absolutely amazing, and the harmonies heavenly…(Grin) Somehow as I watched it, I felt peace after a totally harrowing and exhausting day. (The entire bottom floor of our house was flooded through a construction mishap.) It is 1:00 a.m. and the truck just left that sucked up the water. (Big Sigh) Watching Crosby, Stills and Nash looking so young, reminded me how simple life once seemed. Lately, the music is doing things to me. I am remembering things long ago forgotten.
    Tonight, I feel helpless, and now I need to get a little hope put with it, I guess. Hope springs eternal, as the saying goes, for who of us would dare to face tomorrow without it? It is a confident expectation that something will happen. If we can carry that into each new day, we will see miracles. Love, Lonnie

  2. Hopelessly waiting for the words that could bring some sense, some meaning to this insanity. Love is the constant in all of our lives. Nat, Michael, Lea, Carla, Linda, Helen, Karma, all of you that read and respond, words will always help us to remember. Will help us to think. Will force us to act. But most of all they will guide us in the pursuit of love, and for the truth. Truth is, and always has been the driving force. Without truth there is no hope. Without hope there are no answers. Without answers there are no real hellos. It may be time to put the insanity to bed and concentrate on the love, the ONE person lost. The two alone, missing the ONE. The three together, knowing that THE ONE loved, was so incredibly loved. THE ONE always searching for the small ray of sunshine. That small ray that says another day, is another chance for Owen to say Hello.

  3. One person… two alone. As dark as this situation gets at times (most times), I am so grateful for Nat and his ability to keep going with the rest of the family. His pain without Owen is so obviously immense and yet he carries it like a warrior.
    I heard his voice on the phone last night for the first time since the memorial and it flooded my spirit with gratitude and sadness at the same time. Brothers…One person Two alone… Owen loved and respected Nat.
    Nat was truly a big brother, with all the trials of being a big brother and all the great moments of being a big brother. Owen recognized Nat for his heart through all their typical brother interactions—it was Nat’s heart that Owen chose to speak about to others (me). Even though Nat must fee alone in his unique grief for his brother, I can only hope that the fact that Owen will never leave him will eventually give him some comfort.

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