Tag: grief

A Poem a Day: a Series – Day 145

Day 145: “Gone”

The day I’ve been dreading finally came

We had to say goodbye

Have to go on living

Without her

I don’t know how to do this

How to breathe

How to exist

Without her

Fifteen years

She was with me for my first period

Through high school

My senior year of college

My first apartment

My first relationship

She kept me company

Always

My heart is broken

I found her when I was nine

I brought her home

Fell in love with her

I think she fell in love with me too

Where do we go from here?

How do I function?

How do I live?

I’ll try not to drown

In my ocean of tears

As I listen to the recording of her purrs on my phone

A Poem a Day: a Series – Day 143

Day 143: “Wake”

Death isn’t the end of life

For those left behind

It’s not the end of sunshine

It clouds things

But the sun does come out again

It’s not the end of joy

The end of light

The end of levity

It’s not the end of love

Of closeness

Of connection

It’s not the end because there are memories

There is the remembrance of joy

Of love

Of lightness

There was the laughter

That comes back again

When you remember

There is immeasurable pain

That’s for sure

But there is always love

A Poem a Day: a Series – Day 103

Day 103: “Cheap Rings”

When we were at my grandparents house

going through their things

I found their 25-year wedding anniversary book

It was frilly and white

With a padded heart on the front

White ruffles

And lace

Plastic pearls

A product of the late 1970s

What caught my eye

were these two rings

They might be made of metal

Whatever it is is lightweight, thin

They were together on the aforementioned string of pearls

We had to get rid of things

But I couldn’t stop thinking about those rings

Before the book, in all its vintage bridal glory, was thrown out

I cut the string and grabbed the rings

For a while I wore one on each ring finger

They’re really pretty

Silver

With floral markings “engraved”

And “HONG KONG” written on the inside of the bands

The signature of only the most expensive jewelry

But they don’t turn my fingers green

I lost one of them

It fell behind the fridge at my old apartment

I was really upset

Felt like I lost my grandparents for a second time

But I keep the other close

Wear it often

Mostly on my left ring finger

To summon the love of my grandma

A Poem a Day: a Series – Day 97

Day 97: “Severance”

What if you didn’t feel loss

Well you did

But it was the other you

Severance

And when that loss came up

You’d be a different you

One that holds all of that pain

I wonder how heavy that’d be

And would the memories go too?

The good, happy ones?

What would it be like to sever the grief

Would it be like they never existed at all?

Would it be unfair to yourself?

Your other self

To give them the loss

Or would they be better off

More resilient

Stronger

What would that make you? Without the grief?

Would you even be you at all?