From A Life Hidden Blog by Naomi Whittingham.
I see him in the hushed beauty of a winter sky; in the gold-streaked clouds of an expectant dawn. I feel his presence in music and candlelight. He is never fully here, yet with me always. Unknown to much of the world, yet a constant in my heart.
The prison of his suffering is nearly impenetrable. I want my love to melt the darkness and agony, and to set him free. My helplessness stalks me every day of the year, but is particularly felt at this time of love and giving. The ache of missing; the emptiness of absence. And the sting of my own powerlessness.
I thought I knew all that could be known about suffering, through my own illness. Now I have learnt the unique torment of witnessing a loved one’s pain. My sadness could choke the sun with thick cloud; my anger rip holes in the sky. Music has no place here: I want to silence it with a scream. Candlelight is too forgiving when fire consumes me.
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