I walked to the lake tonight,
casting the first footprints in the snow.
Out of breath from the cold,
and from my grief,
I sit on the bench and gaze at the lake,
now frozen, like my heart.
You are not here to comfort me.
The cold wind laps around my face,
and I am a tiny boat tossed about in the sea.
I welcome the cold.
It is sobering.
I know death is forever,
but you never died before.
How do I fill this massive void?
I wear your red coat and it warms me
as the bitter wind whispers your name,
and calls me back to an emptier home.
I must go now.
Trudging back home I think of God.
I do not blame Him.
Death is hardest on those still living.