The reminders sneak up on me now. I don’t dread them the same way, yet they remain razor-sharp upon arrival.
I’m trying to type this through tears, and I’m happy to say I’m okay now. That isn’t to say that I don’t miss you terribly, especially on days like today.
But I feel you now. I couldn’t before, but I do now. At the edges of my mind, forever just out of reach.
In my heart, I know we’ve done this dance before, and we’re likely to do it again. For now, it’s the physical reassurances that I miss the most; your hands, your eyes. Your impossible spirit remains, carved from love and undeniable.
This Saturday marks two years since my Father’s passing. Grief is a strange thing that it plays by its own set of rules and can drag you back into its depths without warning. The following free verse poem is an echo from that dark place we find ourselves in.
I’m still here to witness the world and relay my observations in poems you’ll never read
They’ve crucified Woody Allen, I didn’t see that one coming I grind my teeth thinking of February, and now it hurts to chew
I’d sleep the rest of this week away if life would let me I’d disappear into myself and never come up for air
Every death I’ve experienced was like a bomb exploding, with ways of life and family members blown in a thousand directions
When the dust settled, broken, bloody shapes pulled themselves to their feet and limped forward, ears ringing,