Falling through clouds

flowers-with-ice-janet-webb-2

 

The flowers wither and crumble, fragile, like my heart beating its anguish above a stomach so constricted my navel pushes against my spine.

Hot tears pool to the floor to lie with questions which will forever remain unanswered.

Grief has changed the earth beneath my feet and I stumble against it on legs that are weak and trembling, no longer strong enough to support me.  You’re not there to catch me. I am left in this black and white world without you.

 

In memory of Ian Hawley who taught me kindness, unconditional love and a mean game of poker. You raised me well. Taken all too soon on 2nd December 2014. 

 

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Written for Friday Fictioneers. 100 words inspired by a prompt. Read the other entries here.

 

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23 thoughts on “Falling through clouds

  1. Louise, when you are finally not fabricating fiction, your words are especially heart breaking. I’m so very sorry for your loss. What a stunning, deeply touching piece of writing– straight from your heart. (( hugs )) and sincere condolences.

  2. Oh, ouch!
    Hot tears pool to the floor to lie with questions which will forever remain unanswered. Lovely, lovely line.
    But as children we can never ask some of those questions. No regrets, sweetie, the love was/is still there – I read it in your well written words.

  3. Dear Louise, How he must be smiling at the beautiful words you wrote of his passing. I am so very sorry for your loss and truly, I have been there and still it hurts – but it does get better with time. I wish there was something to help with the void. I am so sorry. Love your words and the way you wrote about the pain. Your words have touched me. Nan

  4. Dear Louise,

    Heartfelt emotions expressed with raw eloquence. Your father will always be with you, looking over your shoulder, whether you’re writing or trying to draw to an inside straight. Some people never have that bond. I can tell from your writing and your words that he was a good man and you, a good daughter.

    Aloha,

    Doug

  5. Pingback: The little things | fabricating fiction

  6. So beautifully put. I am so sorry for your loss. I feel your pain acutely as I lost my own mother last month. Strangely my post for this photo was a fictional account of remembrance for the narrator’s mother. Little did I know that I would be attending my mother’s funeral in less than a week after that.

Constructive criticism appreciated

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