Journaling and poetry can ease the journey through widowhood Holes How is it possible to bear the grief of losing My companion, friend, lover, husband, and family? The holes created in my life are too numerous to be counted Do numbers even matter? Who am I? Once stripped of him, of his presence- What is left of me? Less than a shell Whose lonely spirit is drifting More wildly than a little leaf in an autumn storm Just as cut off, tossed about, No roots, no destination, some inkling of origin perhaps? Where am I going? And why? When every movement appears to take more energy Than this fragile leaf can muster No memories are easing the strained breath Why are you not out there? How dare you leave! (More in IJHC September 2004, Volume 4, No. 3)