Love Letter to the Other Side

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This morning, as I awoke, the muse whispered, and I found myself falling under her spell, a willing scribe to her inspiration; the words below emerged as if summoned.

Within, I sense a compelling need to craft a series of love letters to the other side—missives of the heart, perhaps solely to my sister, or maybe they will reach others. The specifics remain veiled, a silent testament to the great mystery beyond.

I don’t need the clarity of the destination; my sole obligation is to the creative impulse, to surrender to the gentle insistence of expression. Thus, I write, allowing the words to unfurl and drift freely, like snowflakes in the hushed serenity of a winter’s eve.

Love Letters to the Other Side
by Louise Gallagher


1.	

There's a restlessness within me, 

my mind a relentless gale, 

thoughts darting in sharp staccato— 

       like squirrels leaping through winter branches, 

empty-mouthed, in relentless search for sustenance 

against the cold’s embrace, 

an uninvited guest at a time when warmth is all I yearn for.


I seek that sustenance, a thought to anchor me, 

to the serene shores of the now, 

without spiraling into chaos, 

without stirring the well of tears that threatens to overflow— 

        tears I fear will never cease, and in their flood, 

drown me in your absence.


I reach for my phone

I want to share the trivialities, the daily follies, 

hoping to dispel these turbulent feelings, 

seeking solace, seeking peace.


But you are gone and all I have are these words, 

my silent sentinels on the page, echoing back a silent challenge— 

         to rise, to find the best in this moment, 

as you always believed I could.


You helped me carry life’s burdens with grace, 

helping me navigate with love 

through the missteps and the chaos of life. 


Did you know how fervently I wished to free you from pain? 

That I would have given anything to ease your burden, 

even though I knew I was not powerful enough to take it all away.


This I know with certainty—

  You are beyond pain now, 

dancing, laughing, leaping, somewhere beyond my sight, 

yet ever-present in the music of my heart.


And as it was in our talks, so it is with each word I write, each tear that falls— 

            I find solace in the calm, 

in the blanket of the never-ending love, you wove with such ease

into the tapestry of our family circle

forever connected through our memories of you.

13 thoughts on “Love Letter to the Other Side”

  3. Almost morning here in the Middle Kingdom, a balmy 2.5C outside, not even a whisper of a breeze. I have just finished reading “Love Letters to the Other Side” for the third time, each time getting a deeper understnding. How true your words resonated – I reach for my phone … There are so many questions I still have about my family’s history that only my Mother or someone in a distant land can help me with. I can only ask in a rhetorical manner, knowing the answer will never come. Yet I still say the words out loud just in case I get a response from somewhere. Thanks to WW II I did not know my faraway family. Did meet them a few times over my seven decades but I did not grow up with them. The familial bonds were never there so my questions will remain a mystery yet I still reach for my phone … even after 13 years have passed since my Mother died. The phone …

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    • We are experiencing the same weather Iwona.

      As we settle into this new norm, my sister Anne and both my daughters and I realize we can’t just call Jackie up to ask for the name of that cousin who is the daughter of which aunt?

      Jackie kept them all in order, knew many of the stories and savoured the sharing.

      And I understand, event after 13 years have passed, how the phone calls… ❤

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  5. I too have the urge sometimes to pick up the phone – with good news, or bad news, or a tidbit of gossip, or a joke – with several people in my life, but then I put the phone down. There are family members who are gone, friends who are gone, colleagues who are gone – and I miss those ‘people to call’ as much sometimes as I miss their absence in my life.

    And then there are the ones who haven’t gone anywhere – but they’ve gone out of my life. I am glad they are still here, and sad we aren’t talking.

    We are all in the world of the sick or the well, or we’re not in this world.

    Some people, it seems, our out of this world – and we still want to call them up to talk to them.

    M

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