Me and My Blank Pages

“We are all on the same page and it is blank.”~ Vicki Woodyard

Each day is one in which I face the blankness of widowhood and try to be okay with it.

The tears are mostly gone now, but the resonance of sorrow hides behind every word. How can it be otherwise?

My spouse, my other half, my connection to heaven now, must surely be proud that I continue to “blacken pages,” as Leonard Cohen called it. I am coming to a blank screen, but it’s the same thing. A remedy for the wound. A way to say hallelujah over such a loss.

The phrase, bravely facing blank pages, is not mine. I ran across it tonight online. A group of cancer patients writing poetry for recovery coined it.

My life is a blank page, as is yours. What are you going to write on it?

I like to write before my mind has a chance to organize the thoughts. I want to rush right onto the page and dazzle you with the dew of new words. Sometimes I can pull it off.

It is when I dig deepest that I can make you feel universal things. For example, once Bob was given the fatal diagnosis, I lived with the fear of not being strong enough to go on after he left.

But I am more than strong. I am determined. This very fact has led me through the valley of the shadow of death many times over.

Bob must be looking over my shoulder as I pound out words day in and day out, never knowing who will be reading over my shoulder as well.

Sometimes one of you will reach out to me and say thank you. And all I have to say is that this is all I know to do.

I want to be like my late friend, Jeff Belyea. He wrote one of his finest poems, Bird of Paradise, and then had a massive stroke. He must have walked straight into the arms of God. His words opened the door to heaven; I am sure of that. I could do no more.

My new book is called “The Edge of Enlightenment.” This is the view from the edge. It will have to do for now. Even at the edge, especially at the edge, God is there. I count on that.

Vicki Woodyard