Holes and Spaces

Holes. Spaces. Little empty places.
When people we love and care about leave us, their passing leaves a permanent void.

I still feel the space that my mom used to fill -- and although it may sound odd, it is not painful. It gives me comfort and I never want it filled ... it is a placeholder for the love she gave and the place that only she occupied. Not a bad thing ... just a fact. We all leave little holes (if we are lucky) if we have meant something special to someone.

The threads of our relationships and family bonds weave a delicate fabric. Death can unravel, snag the thread. And our weathered tapestry is a testament to the depth and richness of our life.

Holes. Spaces. Little empty places.
Little gaps we can't replace. Nor would we want to.