You live in spaces between our words
And in the corners where the light,
Falls quietly against the floor.
In a green or blue or muted brown,
The brightest orange
And blackest gown.
In darkness and bright rays,
Wisps of grass can hold your breath,
A drop of rain your smile,
The noise of traffic,
A muted sigh, a stranger’s look,
Your song, a life, not lived
Condemned to stay unsung.
A raging ache, a constant weight,
How deep is deep if never done?
Your absence, vast,
Its presence felt in all there is.
A missing which is here today,
Next year, and then extends,
A lifetime’s daily sorrow dance.
Katja Faber is the mother of three amazing children. Following her 23-year-old son’s murder, she used her legal training to work closely with private lawyers and the State Prosecutor in her fight for justice for her dead son. She hopes to inspire others in seeking justice for their loved ones and through her writing break the taboo of homicide loss and child loss grief. She runs her own farm, a magical place where she hosts private retreats for those in need of support and healing. Katja is a certified Compassionate Bereavement Care® counselor through the Center for Loss and Trauma in partnership with the MISS Foundation and the Elisabeth Kubler-Ross Family Trust.
To read her story, blog and further articles by Katja do please follow the link to her dedicated webpage in honor of her son KatjaFaber.com or alternatively read her articles on Still Standing Magazine’s author page. You can also connect with Katja on her FB writer’s page.
Katja’s continuing fight for justice for her son Alex is on Twitter. Her farming IG account where she reflects on daily life in the country and the healing process of grief is on Instagram.