I ran into a friend who said, “You miss your husband, don’t you?”
I thought it was obvious that I would, and I replied, “I miss
him terribly.”
She said, “I can tell…there is an aura about you.”
What?
Can she see it?
I thought I was exuding a positive attitude!
Can she really see the ragged, bleeding edges where part of my
self was ripped away?
It was not a clean surgical cut that could easily be sutured
by time and good thoughts.
But…
I have done my best to exercise faith in a loving God.
Do I carry a gray aura of grief,
Or loneliness,
Or sadness?
Can everyone see it?
When they ask how I’m doing and I say that I am doing well,
Do they believe me?
I am not silly and empty-headed.
I cannot brush off tragedy as of no account.
But I will survive.
I will ponder and pray.
I will be transparent.
Perhaps slowly and in tiny increments,
My aura will change.
Perhaps, one day,
I will again be joyful,
And my aura be golden.
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