The Worst of Days
By early March, I was starting to anticipate our twentieth wedding anniversary. It turned out to be like a tropical cyclone, wreaking havoc as it approached. It didn't matter how ready I was for this day, I couldn't avoid the emotional damage it was going to cause. I was starting to become very down, and it became considerably worse during the days that followed.
I wanted to write something that acknowledged that the marriage I had was far from perfect, and that there were exceedingly difficult times, but that the worst of those days were better than the intense loneliness and longing that I was then experiencing. This concept and the desire to write a poem had been on my mind for several weeks. But the words came to me on 5th March at Church, when I should have been listening to the sermon.
The Worst of Days
Even on the worst of days,
there'd be a hug and kiss.
Her warm embrace, her laugh and smile,
I will forever miss.
The end of day, the early morn,
are times I always dread.
I stay up late, do anything,
to avoid the lonely bed.
Sometimes I smile, and even laugh,
but joy is hard to find.
Companionship, her touch and love,
are always on my mind.
There were good times, but also bad,
It often wasn't fair.
Sometimes I thought of giving up,
when I was in despair.
The worst of days when she was here,
the worst days of my life,
were better than the current days,
without her as my wife.
Andrew Host, 5th March 2006
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