Holes: The Architect and the Tenant

All that remained was the black chiffon sequined tie sash for the tailored floor length gown of the same description.  She held the tie sash up above her head showing it to Jane, who was crouched eye level in a ball of fur on top of the white wicker bureau.  Jane is the other beating heart and communicating creature living in the house.  “Jane”, she sighed, “this is all that’s left of mom.  48 inches of chiffon and sequins glittering in the light.  How I miss her.  What a hole she made when she left me.” They rubbed noses as a kiss of acknowledgment.

Holes.  All the holes by all the people that left, that past over, that died, that ceased to exist any longer…  their last breath.  How many of these last breathers were with someone they loved?  How many went peacefully and how many went violently?  How many loved ones couldn’t face witnessing their passing over, their last puff of warm moist air?  How many experienced the empty envelop of a body that was once their mother, their father, sister, brother, aunt, uncle, brother, cousin, friend, teacher?

How many of the dearly departed knew that they were loved in their lifetime?  How many loved themself?  How big a hole did they make when they left the bounds of gravity and where did they go?  Could they still see us?  Did they zoom away or lurk around us unseen?

Who do you know that left you and you never said goodbye?  People come into our lives for a reason, a season or a lifetime.  The surprise enters when we think someone is there for a lifetime.  We even make vows declaring that fact.  But they leave.  They don’t die, not in the last breath kind of way.  They disappear.  They disappear even when they are standing right in front of us, cutting their meat, or snoring next to us in bed…  in the process of becoming a hole replacing the vow maker.

Sometimes an old hole that we didn’t even know was a hole because we got caught up in life and being to busy to remember to breathe ourselves, shows up twenty-seven years later when you are flopping around in the giant gap of your own life.  The instant recognition of that old vacancy instantly gets filled back up and replaces the empty spaces you were wallowing around inside your mind.

This new old hole replaces the other one that built a life around their dreams, contributed to their expansion, was present each step of the way.  This one replaces the architect of that dream; it moves in and becomes the tenant, fulfilling the dream shared, formed and created by a previous someone else.  The architect fades away invisibly, switches places, becoming a new hole to fill.  The tenant fills the holes of the dreamer.  Who fills the scarred vacancy of the architect?

Another hole.  The one made by the black chiffon sequined tie sash and the one made by the dreamer.  The one made when the partner of the tie sash left, the ones created by the living sibling holes, the one made by the offspring that just doesn’t get where the architect is coming from…  all these holes.

We search and search for ways to fill all the holes, all the spaces others vacantly left empty… we wake up each day, take our first breath at dawn, go through time and space not noticing the holes, until, in an instant, we pick up a black chiffon sequined tie sash and remember.  We begin with one hole.  The one hole expands into all the holes of all the people that left us. “Jane, you are so beautiful.  Grandma would have loved you.”