Nos Absents

It's not really ghosts, but their absence is so strong,
that it creates a presence in us that makes us weak, supports us.
It's those we loved who created an almost tangible void, because the love we gave them is orphaned, it seeks a target.
For some we knew, we were prepared for the worst, but others disappeared all of a sudden, without warning.
We didn't say goodbye to them, they left without our consent, because death has its reasons that our reason ignores.
So we gathered for a utopian comfort. Together we are stronger but not less sad.
It's alone that we mourn, because we are alone when we feel. We tame the pain and the presence of our absent ones. Our absent ones are always there, in our minds and in our memories. In this vacation movie, in these photos full of smiles.
Our absent ones surround us and will remain by our side, they come back to life in our dreams, as if nothing had happened.

We reassure ourselves facing the pain that tightens our throat, by telling ourselves that where they are, they surely have less pain than us.
So we walk, we laugh, we sing, but their shadow remains, in a corner of our brains, in a corner of our happiness.
We have plans, we draw our tomorrows. We decide the path, we look at the future in our hands. And in the midst of action, in our victories or our hells, we imagine from time to time that our absent ones see us. Each life is a miracle, but the ending is annoying. I've done my research, we won't come out of it alive. We have to learn to accept it to try to grow old happily, but every year our absent ones are a little more numerous.
Each new disappearance turns our hearts into lace, but time passes and the sharp pains become pastel. This time, for once, is a true ally. Every hour passed is a balm, we will need thousands.

I don't talk much about the dead, the missing. So I write about them, I touch on taboo subjects. This great mystery that awaits us, our ultimate common point. That makes us chase after life, knowing that death is on our heels.
It's not really ghosts, but their absence is so strong, that it creates a presence in us that makes us weak, supports us. It's those we loved who created an almost infinite void, that inspire first-degree texts. Gotta say, death lacks irony.