Long Ride Home

There’s a Patty Griffin song I related to about what it’s like after my husband’s death.  I’ve sang it for others on occasion, but some of my family has never heard it.  They’ve never asked about what my life’s been like since that day.  I know they have their own pain and knowing about mine, might add more, but I hope that’s the only reason.  Here’s some of the words to that song, “Ain’t nothing left at all . . . We made ourselves the best of plans.  The house is dark as it can be.  I go inside and all is silent, and feels as empty as the inside of me. . . . on the long ride home.”  When someone becomes your everything it’s hard not to feel there’s nothing left after they leave.  He said, “My heart aches for the Adirondacks” and so we made plans to move here after retiring; at least one of us made it.  My house is no longer dark, but dark still shows itself occasionally on the inside, where I can keep it hidden.  There’s lots of silence here with emptiness ever present without his ever present presence.  It’s been a long ride; not quite home yet.


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