Perpetual Presence

I visited a school alum parent the other day who lost her beloved husband a year or so ago. I asked her how she was doing in his absence and her voice caught and she simply said, “It’s hard.” I answered, “I imagine you feel his absence as a perpetual presence.” And I believe it’s true.

 

With the days darkening and the air getting colder, I’m sleeping under heavy blankets steeped in winter dreams. In many of the recent ones, I’m back in my old New Jersey house and happily so. Last night, my parents were there and I kissed my Dad’s unshaven cheek and hugged my Mom and there you have it. One of the many ways they are still with me. My Dad has been gone 18 years, my Mom 11, yet they’re still by my side. Their photo on my desk, forever in their 60’s, is another way I greet them each day. Many of my visits with my sister invoke their company as well. 

 

So that sentence that I spontaneously spoke rings true. We feel the absence of our loved ones as a perpetual presence.