Jan 27

Why Can't Life Be Done

Many people might not understand that grief can be this painful, this lonely, this dark. I wrote this poem a while ago. It is not how I feel every day. It is how I felt that day. I share it so that others who feel this way on their darkest day know that they are not alone and that their darkest day need not be their last day. Suicide is an everyday threat to those living with depression and complicated grief and without the help of wonderful professionals it is something that could have happened to me at many points in my life and especially over the last eight months. I urge anyone who resonates with the feelings in this piece to seek help, I have excellent counselors who help me work through these feelings and that is why I am able to post this today.

Why Can’t Life Be Done

Christine J Baxter

Why can’t it be Done

Why can’t life be over when living has ceased

Why can’t pain end when love is gone

Why can’t I cease to exist now that my reason for existence is gone

My responsibilities have been fulfilled

My work is complete

I have no more to give

I have no reason to live

I exist but have no purpose

I live but have no love

There is no one who needs me

There is no one to remind me that I am alive

I look in the mirror and see emptiness

I go through the motions of life but life has no motion for me

Death does not frighten me

The promise of no more pain entices me

How to say goodbye is the complicated part

How to say goodbye without hurting their hearts

They’re wonderful people my sons and my friends

I love them forever beyond the end

They can’t make my pain go away you see

Why can’t life be done when life is over for me

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  1. this is so important to ask… and so important not to answer for another.
    for me, my answer to my version of this question came
    from a combination of time spent asking
    and time spent questioning the answers that came.
    my answer (for now) is that life could not end because life does not end. ever.
    Life is eternal, Love never dies.

    • Frank M. D'Ambrosio on January 27, 2015 at 9:41 pm
    • Reply

    This poem hit WAY TOO CLOSE to home. I understand the reason you are wearing your grief on your sleeve (so to speak) and laud you for having the courage to do so. Yours truly does not have that kind of courage, so the pain remains mine and mine alone.

    I utterly agree with the closing line of the previous post (at least in part)=the part which says “love never dies,”

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