1 Year

March 22, 2010


Because I Could Not Stop For Death by Emily Dickinson 

Because I could not stop for Death – 

He kindly stopped for me – 

The Carriage held but just Ourselves – 

And Immortality.


We slowly drove – He knew no haste

And I had put away

My labor and my leisure too,

For His Civility – 


We passed the School, where Children strove

At Recess – in the Ring – 

We passed the Fields of Gazing Grain – 

We passed the Setting Sun – 


Or rather – He passed us – 

The Dews drew quivering and chill – 

For only Gossamer, my Gown – 

My Tippet – only Tulle – 


We paused before a House that seemed

A Swelling of the Ground – 

The Roof was scarcely visible – 

The Cornice – in the Ground – 


Since then – ’tis Centuries – and yet

Feels shorter than the Day

I first surmised the Horses’ Heads

Were toward Eternity – 


Things have changed.  The days have worn on, I feel older, yet in the same instance it feels as if I am reliving the same day, the same week continually. Sights, sounds, and smells recreate the events of a year ago. 

Things were supposed to improve, I’m supposed to feel better or more at peace, yet, most of what remains is a hollow feeling of emptiness knowing what has happened and of what I have to look forward to.  I keep waiting for the moment, when this  pall will vanish, but it feels permanent.

 Recently, night has been the worst, visions stir, and questions arise, no answers can are found. Sometimes, I’m just at a loss and wish that I could turn to the even keeled nature of my father, yet, his calm presence seems vacant.  Isolation seems inevitable. Alone, surrounded by second guessing, and regret. 

You’re still missed and loved…. I’m sorry… I would have traded places if I could have.


One Response to “1 Year”

  1. Nicole Says:

    A year is hard. 5 years is hard, too. They’re all hard, just in different ways. Much love and peace headed towards PA.

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