When matter
decomposes
The space left behind
becomes tangible.
The oxygen there is
thicker
And sometimes cooler than
normal.
What do we do with
this space?
We try to fill it.
New people take that
empty seat,
Different faces
plaster the news,
And the name of that
space is avoided.
Fast forward one
year.
The physical space is
not gone
But has been
otherwise occupied.
His name has long
since faded
And the casket has
been tucked out of sight.
In our hearts though,
that space remains.
Not because we don’t have
anything to fill it
But because we choose
not to.
For us—that space
will never be filled
Now void of memories,
images, or laughter.
For us—that space is
still real
The lingering
possibility of what could have been.
For us—that space is
reserved for what was.
Rest In Peace Michael
Muange.
A strange feeling it is, to have a friend die so young. he is the second friend of mine to die since my senior year of high school. People wonder what you should say to the family and friends that are now plagued by grief. The simple truth is that there is nothing you can say. Nothing that you can do except hold them as they grieve. Just be there.
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