My Heart is Aching

Dear Charisse.

How can I even begin to say goodbye.
It isn’t fair. It isn’t right. It doesn’t even seem real.
I’d like to think that you’re looking down
Finally able to see the brilliant azure of sky
And green of earth the way God intended.
But all I can think, all I can hear is your voice, your laughter
A daily comfort from 9-5

Who will I talk to about the practice of writing,
Of finding time to give beauty the time it needs
To learn to not hasten, or look forward to the light
Or the Spark! of inspiration.

Idris Elba doesn’t know what he missed
But I do. We do.
It’s like one of your paintings
A splash of color, and shape
Full of meaning, full of heart
Full of soul

I’d like to think you can see us–can see how much you will be missed.
But I know, that you know, that I won’t see your reaction
That tilting head, that eyebrow raised….
The face that says so much with so little
It isn’t fair. It isn’t right. It doesn’t even seem real.


Today I found out that a dear friend and coworker passed away. Like much in life we aren’t prepared for, you don’t quite know how much someone means to you until they are no longer there.  Charisse painted with skill, and wrote with the weight of her history and her life experience. Every day that I got to know her was a lesson in how to be more optimistic, unselfish, and to imagine that greater things are just on the horizon. My heart is aching–for her family, for her friends, and for those of us who will no longer be able to tell her how very much she meant to us.

3 thoughts on “My Heart is Aching

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