Even for those who believe that their loved one has moved on to a better place i.e.: Heaven, there can be difficulties in accepting and understanding the bodily separation of that person, combined with their spiritual existence somewhere else, somewhere that is intangible to the living.

Please do not misread the passage below and interpret it as an example of “red flag” so-to-speak in the direness of grief, or take it as my expression of the want for my life to be over.  This is not the case.  I have written extensively on the ability to carry on with life, through grief and even to be happy and productive.  The purpose of this poem is merely to express one aspect of how grief affects the life of those still living through the loss of a loved one-even the happy and productive people.  Grief is carried with you through it all.

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Time holds no other place in my effort than to be a roadblock in my search.
You were relinquished from all known existence like the setting sun across the horizon.
At that time my heart beat slowed, the muscle itself atrophied and it grew cold and dark within my chest.
The life seeped from my pores and vaporized into the swirling air before my eyes.
The wind carried it silently away.

My blood drained out from invisible wounds and my body turned to stone.
You had vanished and suddenly no one could tell your life had ever occurred.
But the memories of you streak the remnants of my mind with warmth and golden light illuminating the dark passageways to my heart.

Alone, I traverse the depths of Hell in your absence.
I am trudging my path back to you through the labyrinth of a left-over life.
The hounds howl and the mist grows thick.
Fires burn in the distance.
I choke on their smoke.
Great vines encompass my feet, encircling my legs and tightening their hold with every step I take.
My presence is fleeting and it also is final, but my endurance as well as resolve strengthens through every maneuver.

My breath is heavy and my empty arms ache of their weightiness.
To four corners and back I have been.
On what plain do your reside?
Are you there?  Where?
My mind, as fragile now as a pile of ashes swept away by the breeze.

I am a prisoner of this body and of this life itself.
Only in death, will my freedom come.
Only then, will my shackles be broken.
Only then, will the answers I search for be made known to me.
Are you waiting?

Will you remember me?
Have you moved on?
Is there a place for me beside you?
Can you see me now?

I dreamt of you once in horrific detail.
A betrayal of my consciousness.
I awoke and you were not there.
It was a knife in my already inadequate heart.
I pleaded unsuccessfully with my mind to take me back to my state of slumber.
When will I never again be forced to leave that magical enfoldment?

When will the sight of you be a reality once more?