Great souls die and

our reality, bound to

them, takes leave of us.

Our souls,

dependent upon their

nurture,

now shrink, wizened.

Our minds, formed

and informed by their

radiance,

fall away.

We are not so much maddened

as reduced to the unutterable ignorance

of dark, cold

caves.

And when great souls die,

after a period peace blooms,

slowly and always

irregularly. Spaces fill

with a kind of

soothing electric vibration.

Our senses, restored, never

to be the same, whisper to us.

They existed. They existed.

We can be. Be and be

better. For they existed.

• Maya Angelou

“When Great Trees Fall”

Today would have been Marcia’s and my fifteenth wedding anniversary. 

I have no idea what my life would be like if she had not come into it. I do know she saved me from myself as I began to descend into old places. She gave me strength for the day and hope for tomorrow. Because of her, I am better. Because of her, I aspire. 

Yesterday, we held a “Longest Night” service at the hospital where I work. It is a service held on the longest night of the year and acknowledges the “long dark night of the soul” in which memories and current situations bring about pain felt all the more among the season’s festivities.

The service also is known as a Blue Christmas or “empty chair” service. The empty chair represents the people who are not with us due to death, illness, or other difficult circumstances. It also can represent different kinds of losses - relationships, jobs, our own health, and for some of us, even hope and faith. 

The service acknowledges the pain but it does also remind us that the amount of light we experience begins to increase with each coming day. 

Now, nearly a year and a half after Marcia died, at least once a day, I am momentarily overwhelmed as I realize again that the woman I could hug, kiss, make love with, or walk beside no longer physically exists. 

But I also hear a whisper. And then I am better.