I miss my son, beyond imagining.

Compounded by the memories that continue to amass.

Additionally, the past has become a Menagerie.

Expounded by moments that have already passed.

As Time moves on, slow and emphatically.

I can not bare to consider how long I might last.

Because the loneliness is so immense, it is staggering.

And the emptiness is exceedingly vast.

It has been almost two years now since my son Brandon passed away. That in itself is confounding. In some ways, it seems like mere moments. In others, it has been an eternity. Grief is so overwhelming that it distorts my recollection and blurs my perception of time.

The absence of light transforms the world into black indistinguishable space. Without my son, my life has been bleak and unrecognizable.

Because I spend a great deal of time looking to heaven for clarity, I am prone to see the similarities between the vastness of space and the dark days of grief. And, when I focus on the darkness; all I see is black. The same is true when I first look up at the midnight sky, reiterated by the vast emptiness that surrounds the entire world.

But, when I linger long enough outside, something starts to happen. My eyes slowly start adjusting to the stark and dismal space. Soon, it becomes clear that universe is more than eternal oblivion. There is star light and splendor to offset the gloom.

As time passes, I am slowly beginning to see beyond my sorrow. Even though the darkness is still a constant, I can’t help but notice that life still has its bright spots. Perhaps that understanding will be like counting stars on a moonless night. Acknowledging one, will eventually lead to an incalculable view.

From a distance I gaze upon the newly painted sky,

To catch a glimpse of angels dancing in the sparkle of god’s eye.

Strung like crimson shards from violet streaks,

atop tall magenta billows and flaming orange peaks.

Spun with the spectrums’ refracted display,

Enhanced by the sun and pierced by its rays.

Hints and hues of every shade,

flowing above me in a brilliant cascade.

My thoughts completely captured, my eyes are content to stare.

At sparkling wings, glitters gleam and the heaven’s fiery glare.

 

John French 2011

John French

John French

My name is John French. I was born in January of 1968. I own and operate a small remodeling company in Highland, MI. My wife Michelle and I married very young and we celebrated our 20th anniversary in May of 2009. We had two amazing children: Veronica, who is 20, and Brandon, who was 17. We worked very hard to build a life that would afford us the luxury of giving them all the things we never had, including a stable home, committed loving parents and every material thing imaginable (within the means of a middle class family, I should add). Over the last few years, it seemed we had finally arrived, and living was easy. Then Brandon passed away in August of 2009 from an undiagnosed heart condition. The devastation of that one single moment has crushed our view of reality and cast us down into a state of perpetual winter. I’ve been writing all my life, though not publically. Brandon’s death has so overwhelmed me that I can no longer contain my thoughts. Although my stance is undermined by despair, and frosted by the bitterness that follows the loss of my son, I will labor to plant some seeds of promise in the barren future that I'm so unexpectedly tilling. Perhaps something beneficial will stem from my mourning. If you can gather even a grain of hope from my reaping, it may help to sustain you through your own emotional storm.

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