All That Remains

We are six women in our writing circle every Wednesday evening. Five American. One Canadian. Me. Yesterday, at the end of our hour and a half together, we spoke of these times and all they’ve brought, and all they’ve taken away.

The losses feel almost incomprehensible. As one of the women said last night, with over 350,000 deaths in the US and the numbers climbing, it is numbing.

It is. Yet, we cannot let it be. Numbing. For these are lives lived that are no more. Mothers and fathers and brothers and sisters. Family members and friends. They may be strangers to me, but to someone their loss leaves an empty place that can never be filled.

As Beaumont the Sheepadoodle and I walked this morning in the brilliant sunshine, as we listened to the river crowding through the narrowing channels where ice is beginning to block its path, as I sipped my coffee at my desk and watched the squirrels play their constant game of tag along naked branches of the trees, I wondered how do you fill those empty places when the one who once was there is gone forever?

It feels fitting that as 2020 draws to its close and the calendar turns not just a page or month but into an entirely new year, that I spend some time reflecting upon those who will not be stepping into the new year.

And so, I offer this poem.

21 thoughts on “All That Remains

  1. Dear Louise,

    Thank you so much for the beautiful post on loss. Such an honoring of pain and a holding for future light.

    May your year to come be filled with love, light, endless creativity and joy. (And health 🙂

    ~Lilli Ann


    Liked by 3 people

  2. Oh beautiful lady, so many years on and still you are bringing new insights and beautiful words to the world. I shared this post on my Facebook page this morning because I loved it so much. Happy New Year. Hugs Fiona x

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Dear Louise, I feel your hurt, pain as you allow time, memories nurtured by nature, to heal your sorrows. Time is a wonderful ally and you made such good use of it. 2021 can only be a better year, for we did hit rock bottom in 2020. We shared your grief, we share your re-awakening. Your poem is proof we can rise above all.
    Happy New Year!

    Liked by 1 person

  4. BeUtiful post, Eloise. I can feel the togetherness of the six women and their bewilderment
    of the tragedies around. You say so strongly
    “spoke of these times and all they’ve brought, and all they’ve taken away.”

    Your poem is just wonderful. Heartbreaking but with lights of hope.



  5. Pingback: All That Remains… | Dare Boldly

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