Three Weeks, Three Losses

November 13, 2005: Rabbi: “Do you take this woman for better or for worse, in sickness and in health….to be your…wife?”

Lee: I do.

February 13, 2006: A co-worker: “Robyn, sorry to disturb the meeting, but your husband is on the phone with a family emergency.”  I pick up the phone and before my husband could even speak, I bawl, “My brother is dead.”

You’re alive, but you feel a part of you is vanished.

“You’re alive, but you feel a part of you is vanished. You look in the mirror, all body parts are intact. You breathe --A wave of emotion courses through your body like an agonizing muscle spasm. You look again in the mirror. You just know something is missing. You feel the emptiness in your chest. It will never be replaced. It can never be replaced.

Black

 

I have become so fond of the color that represents my pain.

 The color of despair and sorrow,

 the very depths of my unhappiness.

 Black represents me in so many ways.

The hole that becomes big enough to consume my entire body,

 black knows no boundaries.

 An endless fall to the very bottom of a cave,