Editor’s Note: Debi was widowed four years ago after fifty years of marriage to Pat Neville, a thoughtful, kind, and funny man.
She reaches out her hand.
Fifty year habit that she is unconscious of, but is ingrained in her memory.
Slumber is deep but her hand reaches out across the bed, under the covers,
Searching for the warmth that once was there.
Her heart remembers the feel of intertwining her hand with his and sighing in
Comfort and reassurance she was not alone.
Now, her hand reaches briefly for those fingers and finds only the coldness of the
Undisturbed sheet.
Hesitating for a few moments, she retracts her hand, fingers empty.
She curls her fingers inward in a sad emptiness that her heart knows but in her
Sleep, she is not aware of.
A dream comes to her, so real she can hear his breathing and his soft voice.
They laugh together and smile, and looking into each other’s eyes, they hold
Each other’s hands, a tether to the reality that once was.
For a moment, in her sleep, her heartbeat matches his and she smiles.
And then he is gone.
She wraps her arm around herself, and turns away from the middle of the bed.
Somehow, even in the deepest sleep, knowing it is best to face away
Than face that emptiness.
Copyright © 2024 by Debi Neville
Debi: I am very envious of such vivid memories. Thank you.
Wonderfully written, Debi. My hand could feel the coolness of the empty side of the bed and the warmth of the fingers of a life-long, loving partner. Cling to the sure and certain hope of eternity together in the loving arms of Jesus.
This is a most tender and heart-rending poem. Thanks for expressing your sense of loss very beautifully.
Debi,
This is beautiful and full of emotion. My parents were always holding hands and it is one of my fondest memories of them to this day.
Your prose is the perfect reflection of what the simple human touch of two hands means to a loving couple. I can relate to the emptiness you must feel. You have tenderly reminded us that strength, reassurance and love transmitted through the holding of hands is one of life’s greatest simple blessings.
Debi…What a beautiful poem of your love for Pat. Treasure those memories no one can take those from you.
Oh, Debi,
This is such a touching piece. You capture a heartbreaking perspective on loneliness and loss. I love that it is not melodramatic, just quietly stated deep grief.
Thank you for sharing this.