The memories of times spent together
Photos on the dresser, haunting
Pajamas scattered in the dresser drawers
Treasures with no measure, though
They can’t compare to the greatest gift
That still surrounds you
The love your deceased still has for you
The love you still have for them
A love everlasting
It’s what you feel
I have been dwelling on this dilemma — what function of the human psyche is responsible for healing from the loss of a loved one? Is it the brain? Can we convince ourselves mentally that we are “just over it”? Can a licensed therapist suggest a magic bullet that tears a hole through your grief and miraculously cures your depression? Or do our broken hearts need emotional surgery to make us whole again?
Let’s take a gander at the mental aspect of this. The brain is a real trickster. It can convince us of many things. Some that simply don’t exist. We easily fall into its traps of “what ifs”, “why didn’t I’s”, “how could this have happened,” “why did it have to happen”, “why did he/she have to die/leave me.” If you are reading this, I’m guessing you’ve experienced one or more of these.
Do you believe you can think your way to the proverbial ‘I’m over it’? Can it be that simple? Medicate yourself until you become a walking zombie. And then, miraculously, you wake up one morning and declare yourself cured, and just like that, everything is back to normal? Perhaps one percent of the population can be this lucky. Perhaps, but I doubt it.
Let’s look at this from the heart. The heart center functions as the gateway for soul (the real us). We, soul, are love. Extrapolating on this, we are eternal. So is love. I know if you have lost a loved one, you have experienced this to some degree in some way. You haven’t stopped loving them, and they haven’t stopped loving you. You will begin to recognize the signs they share with you, the more you allow this to become a fixture of your state of consciousness. They will exhibit outward signs in the physical realm. And visit with you on the inner planes through the dream state. I am certain many of you reading this have had these experiences.
Much of this, for those fresh in their grief, may think I’m crazy. That’s okay. At one time, I would have too. All I ask is that you print this out and keep it by your bed. Read it upon waking. Read before you sleep. Believe it will happen.
Every moment is a lifetime. It’s all a matter of perspective. Fill your life with love.
What about me in twenty twenty-three
What will I do, what will I see
Will I finally conquer grief
See the light, attain reprieve
Will I travel to a foreign land
Will I walk along the shores of white sand
Or begin to understand
The meaning of God’s demands
All questions without answers now
Perhaps a visit to Curacao
Or be bold and allow
Myself to just be in the here and now
Or will I wallow in self-pity
Tossed against the shore of enmity
Can I reach out tentatively
And discover a new identity
Can I find the will to take a chance
Find love again by happenstance
Know without doubt upon first glance
To once again dance that dance
Will she be loving and sexy
A lover to sweep away my emotional debris
To once again feel carefree
To float away on an endless sea
Of love
The night sky
Is your lullaby
When you rock me
In your arms — I’m free
From the constant longing
The begging, imploring
Barely breathing, clinging
On my knees, groveling
The river of tears
Each tear, a waking nightmare
My heart pierced by Ares’s spear
As each day morphs into years
Is it too much to ask
Just a simple heavenly task
Visit me with your death mask
A sip from a poisoned cask
I feel you, I know you are near
My love, my life, my Guinevere
My future seems impossibly unclear
My will to live stripped of its veneer
Still now, hushed breathing, I wait
Just a breath away, I abdicate
This earthly shell I dedicate
A body no longer able to participate
I sense you’re just a breath away
My ticket stamped, prepaid
No more yesterdays or todays
I step into a heavenly cabriolet
My ride to where you are
Of moments shared
crystal tears
falling all these years
forming puddles
of all my fears
slipping and sliding
like skating on ice
no railing to hold
it’s too damn cold
there was a time
before the tears
there was a time
of moments shared
no answers now
to questions anew
seemed to be lost
without you
I took a chance
Asked her for a dance
She inspected me up and down
Could she tell I was on the rebound
Her viridian eyes sparkled like forest dew
Her smile too, in my field of view
I nearly lost my biological processes
When she uttered “yes”
The music slowed as if preordained
My libido became unrestrained
She smiled and said, “You seem rather aroused”
I replied, “I think I love you, be my spouse”
She laughed, “Well, don’t you move fast
I have yet to examine your mizzen mast”
“My ship is safely anchored just offshore
But that is not what ships are for”
“So I ask you to come aboard
Take a chance,” I deplored
“We’ll set sail to lands afar
Perhaps a voyage to Zanzibar”
“My, you are a bold one”, was her response
“Will you then be my commandant
Will I have to cook and clean
And be expected to do other things”
“Every sailor has chores on board
Good behavior leads to certain rewards
Say yes and see what awaits you at sea
A life well lived, a life with me”
The band stopped playing, she stepped away
“This has been an unusual encounter today
I’m glad I accepted your invitation to dance
You’ve convinced me to take a chance”
An odorous affair
There are moments in everyone’s life that are often unexpected and unexplainable. Moments that take one’s breath away. Surprises so great they change one to the core and truly awaken your heart center. This is one of those stories. The names of the characters in this story are fictional to protect the innocent. Wait…so are the characters. At least I think so, but I’m not sure.
George Jetson was hoping that today would be the day he would find out about his possible promotion to manager, handling mergers and acquisitions. It would be life-changing for his ego and pocketbook. It was a misty April Monday morning when he exited his rented flat in the Camden borough of London. Imagine that. A foggy morning in London, he thought. He was also hopeful of seeing the attractive woman he would occasionally run into when they would both dump their garbage into the community dumpster. I still don’t know her name. I’d like to arrange a merger with her.
Judy Garland left her rented flat in the borough of Camden. Another boring day of work, she whispered aloud while walking towards the dumpster with her bag of garbage. I wonder if that nice man will be there. I still don’t know his name. Judy was to be 31 next month, and she felt as if her life had passed her by. I’ve had the same job for the last 15 years. A stupid sales clerk in a nearby women’s clothing store. Not a great place to meet a man.
George and Judy arrived at the dumpster simultaneously. George took the initiative, still feeling a buzz about his possible promotion. “Good morning. We have to stop meeting like this,” he joked.
He has a sense of humor. I like that. “I suppose you’re right. It’s not very intimate.” Judy turned bright red upon realizing what she just suggested.
George suppressed his laughter the best he could. “Well, I suppose you’re right about that. I’m George,” he shared as he extended his hand.
“I’m Judy,” she shared while shaking his hand. She was stunned for a moment when she felt an electric shock through her entire body while holding his hand. What the… She then shocked herself when she said, “You have such an electric touch.”
George was teetering on the edge. He’d never been so quickly enamored by a woman. Could it be from a past life we shared? Throwing caution to the wind, he approached her, gently took her hands in his, and kissed her. Briefly, both were surprised by their reactions, then passion enveloped them, soaring them to heights neither had experienced before.
“I’m sorry. I’ve never done anything like that before,” George apologized while breaking from their embrace and hoping that Judy enjoyed it as much as he had.
“No need to apologize. I was thinking how nice it would be to kiss you. And then you did. As if you read my mind. I thoroughly enjoyed every second of it.”
“I did as well.” George threw her trash bag into the dumpster. “I have to run now. I have a big day at work today. I hope to meet you again at our garbage dumpster.”
“It’s a date,” replied Judy. “I’ll be here every Monday morning, even if I have no garbage.”
“Same. Can I kiss you again?” asked George.
“Yes,” replied Judy with a smile that could melt the ice caps.
Three months passed, and every Monday morning, the two met at the garbage dumpsters, sharing kisses and small conversations. Now they only meet at the garbage can in George’s kitchen, where they both live — sharing much more than kisses.
Love is all around us. Even at a garbage dumpster. We only need an open heart to find it.
© Joe Merkle 2025
Thank you for reading.
I knew not what I was
And yet I still reached for the sky
Hoping to grow tall and strong
My family members were examples
Of kindness and sharing
They provided shelter and food
To so many divergent species
My brothers and sisters asked for nothing in return
Their reward was the love they received
And love they shared, fulfilled and content
To just be
As I grew taller through the years
I began to understand
That life is symbiotic, giving and receiving
And it is incumbent upon each of us to grow
Taller and stronger, to provide love and protection
For those all around us, for it is we that gain as well
For each inch we grow, our capacity to love grows greater
Soul to soul, no matter the size or creature, we share it with
It is our fuel for growth, our ticket to the sky
As we surf those cosmic waves to shore
Lighting the way for future saplings
That they may grow in love more each day
Photo by Khadeeja Yasser on Unsplash
During a contemplation last week, I realized how fortunate I’ve been to have been surrounded by love my entire life. I took that for granted for most of my life, not realizing how special it was. During this contemplation, I had several revelations I would like to share.
When I met my wife, Nancy, for the first time, I fell instantly in love. At that moment, I realized that I had never been in love before. Real love transcends time, space, and logic. It simply is.
I felt complete. Little did I know at the time that love is never complete. It is constantly expanding. My first realization of this was when our first child was born. When you hold that special soul in your arms, you feel as if your heart could burst. That love continued to expand through the years as we experienced this with two more children.
My point is this. Love is a never-ending journey. Whether we are here in the physical or elsewhere, even if we wanted to, we cannot escape it because everything in existence is sourced from God’s love.
Grief is a love trainer. It’s akin to starting a workout program where your trainer tells you to forget what you think you know and do this instead. Little by little, through the aches and pains, you start to become a new you. You become stronger, more flexible, and can take on new projects you’ve put off for too long. Your world becomes more effortless. You have more energy and a better outlook on life. Your light begins to shine again.
Grief is your spiritual trainer. Not one you chose, but one nonetheless. And like a fitness trainer, it breaks you down before it can build you up. And grief is a trainer you can’t fire. You’re stuck with the task master. You can try to fight it or run from it. None of this will work. If you want to gain all the gifts grief has in store for you, simply immerse yourself in it. Go with the flow. Allow it to ravage you. This is the greatest of grief’s gifts.
It cleanses the soul in preparation for the new life you are about to be born into. A life filled with new adventures and endless possibilities. A life that has been handed to you with blessings from God. The only question that remains is, what will you do with it? It’s entirely in your hands. Make it a miraculous one.
I’ve played
My life has been an orchestra of love
Those I’ve loved are the notes I have played
I sincerely don’t know what I’ve done
To deserve the chance to conduct this heavenly serenade
I‘ve conducted a wonderful symphony of souls
All the sharps and flats creating a gravitational mass
An inimitable universal love that unfolds
A treasure chest of love that I’ve amassed
Sing to me my choir of shining stars
That I may sail away upon your wings
Let’s erect our personal spiritual alcazar
A palace to share our heartstrings
Let me sail away upon your perfect harmony
Scaling notes beyond human comprehension
As all our love melds with eternity
While we entertain each spiritual dimension