Grief is the house left vacant once parents have moved out, moved on to their eternal home without you— for now Grief is the crib left vacant when life anticipated departs before taking breath, or soon after, taking yours with it Grief is the room left vacant when a child declares independence too young, rejecting all faith and family offered for launch Grief is the vacancy a for-sale sign can’t fill * * * I wrote this post for the Five-Minute Friday Link-Up. Click here to read other writers' posts on today's prompt: vacant . Photo by Tierra Mallorca on Unsplash
Historic downtown. A place of magic when one’s seeking unique. I went today to claim my father’s birthday gift, the one I noted six months ago while window shopping with my brother. A handcrafted ornament of Garry oak honoring Navy Seabees of which my dad was one. I parked blocks away to enjoy the walk, surprisingly lonely for 9:30 a.m. The district was ghost-town empty except for one Hawaiian-shirt clad man standing talking through a car’s open window to the married couple inside. He was asking for prayer for his wife beginning some new venture. They assured him they’d be praying. I prayed, too, having overheard the request. Serendipitous (and unintentional) eavesdropping. Perhaps I was meant to hear, add a covert fourth to their two or three gathered in His name. Reaching the entrance to the small indoor mall, a sign declared my intended destination open today. I entered the building, turned left. The sign on the shop’s door said, “Open! Come on in.” Door locked, lights out, no v...