15. Jul, 2017

The Grieving Widow.

Her husband dies quietly in the night. With no great fuss and no real fight. He slips peacefully away in the wee small hours his widow cries his widow cowers. Where do I go, what do I do she asks? Her whole world has crumbled she is taken to task.
Strange men arrive to take her beloved away. How can this have happened tomorrow will not be a good day. Off back to bed she goes her husband now in her prayers. The whole house empty totally hers.

Dressed in black with handkerchief in hand she makes her way to the undertaker as long has been planned. Coffins and caskets are all on offer, embalming and brass handles all extras to ponder. She leaves the undertaker a few tears lighter her grief still raw the world not much brighter. Lonely she walks along cobbled streets, reminiscing of good times with her beloved in the summer heat. To an empty house she will go supper for one her emotions running low.

The day of the funeral rapidly approaches a hearse winds it's way trailing two coaches. As the rain beats down on the glass hearse window she looks at the coffin and thinks I am now a widow. The mourners enter the cars and travel to the cemetery. A beautiful plot she's selected one where she can share a loving memory.

As the priest commits the body to the ground the grieving widow looks on and remembers how they where once bound. Goodbye my love but not for long. I will join you soon so please stay strong. The funeral is over the ritual done she makes her way back to the house where their lives had once begun. Off to bed she goes her husband in her prayers. She is taken that night the kingdom of heaven is now all theirs.

Peter Abraham.