Today, the Sun will rise, and Michele won’t be out there. I used to look at the moon. To know that you, too, saw its soothing shine united us.
The woodpecker will hammer the back of the tall pine tree in the yard, and the squirrels will flip in the branches and humming birds and chickadees will hover by the glass window but you won’t be out there to hear or see or smell or touch them.
The trillium and the Japanese Maple and Rhododendron and clematis and all the plants you watered in the summer will miss you. All the plants you watered.
The ominous bird will be silent tonight.
Today, my hands will be unable to hold the loving hands I held yesterday.
I will be walking on this earth from now on with only memories of your love in my heart.
This morning, for the first time, the Sun will rise, and Michele won’t be out there. You will be in my heart and in the eyes and lips and ears of all who will see and read and hear your name. Hello, world, without Michele.