The World Moves On

Tim's picture hangs in the hallway, beside his room. From his chair in the living room, you can see it clearly. Only his room was in use down that way. I haven't gone in there to straighten up. It remains the same as it was the night he died. His pants lay where he left them, his possessions scattered about the room in various places. The Denver Bronco jersey's hang as they were.

To Zephyr

To Zephyr

 

In the darkness I see a light

I try to believe that it’s true

My emotions wake me up at night

Wishing I was next to you

 

You took me up to galaxies

Where stars and comets collide

Now the distance between our dreams

Is growing smaller inside

 

The Next Teardrop

There are days that seem to never end. Those are the days when the tears fall the most. It does not matter what direction you turn, how hard you resist, how frantically you try to push away from the pain, the next teardrop falls. How does the human body have such a capacity for so many tears?

Who'll Stop the Rain?

A few years ago, before she passed, my mom talked about the little brother she lost when she was just a child. I had heard the story a few times over the years and thought I knew it well. It happened over 50 years ago and she still cried. It was not until Tim's passing that I realized I did not know her story at all.