Memoirs of the Left Behind

Emotions flood through her veins. On this blessed day, by the moving waters, love exceeds her.

Down the isle she is drawn, a lily in her hair, closer to her fateful future. Closer to. . Forever.


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The screams are heard and a child is born, daddy holds her with care.


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But no longer can he hear the infants laughter, hear her gentle whimper.

Only bomb shells and gun fire. How is her love? Did he live through the harsh winter?

And, what about this war? Why was he forced to go, away from his baby girl, away from his wife?


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Months have passed and the baby becomes a child, but the hardships go on.

There is no one to care for the family, no one to see her pain stretch on for what seems to be. . Forever.

The baby knows not of the families struggles, as they say ‘ignorance is bliss’

She has forgotten daddy’s touch – his loves caress – but not his wife, she can still feel him by her now.

Breathing in the darkness, making her smile – once more – joyful, but her daydreams are disturbed by a hard knock.

Breathe stops; she hears the gentle tick of the clock as the knock once more is made.

Can it be? Has he finally returned to her, to them?


--


A woman stands by the still waters edge, no longer does it move, blocked by a sheet of winter’s ice.

The dead water stands steel, much like the woman at its edge. The scene is frozen in time.

All except the small child, squirming with confusion, beside her.  No tears will come to her – to either of them.

Now the woman realizes, like the still water, she is also dead, no emotions shown on her silent features.

In one hand she hold the child’s small grip; never letting go of the little part that remains of him.

The other hand reaches out.

Drops the object in its grasp.

A single lily flutters in the wind, then lands on the icy surface.

A soft “Goodbye,” escapes her lips