Voiceless

Time for another entry in Friday Fictioneers challenge, courtesy of Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. If you want to give it a try, check the info on her blog. 100 words more or less, inspired by a photo, here we go….

 Copyright –  Liz Young

By nature, I am a quiet person. It always felt almost absurd to yell or scream.

That changed when the nurse told me you died. Later I would find out the words of consolement were a lie, that you suffered and they failed to do everything they could.

Lying on a hospital bed, you looked like you fell asleep and that gave me a quantum of solace. But my strength is tested every day, in thousand insignificant ways.

Truthfully, it is not the loss I feel that is unbearable, but all the years that were stolen from you.

There was a time when meadow, grove, and stream,
The earth, and every common sight,
To me did seem
Apparelled in celestial light,
The glory and the freshness of a dream.
It is not now as it hath been of yore;—
Turn wheresoe’er I may,
By night or day.
The things which I have seen I now can see no more.

—But there’s a Tree, of many, one,
A single field which I have looked upon,
Both of them speak of something that is gone;
The Pansy at my feet
Doth the same tale repeat:
Whither is fled the visionary gleam?
Where is it now, the glory and the dream?

                                             – William Wordsworth

I know you will always be by my side, because I will forever keep you in my heart.