Make Them

Tonight, tears were not shed…..grief doesn’t always soak my face.
Instead, an empty feeling where the silence deafens.
It’s just me and my wine and a silent room where his voice once filled like pleasant interludes.

How arrogant to assume tomorrow is ours, that we own ourselves and the light that follows.
We are oh so fragile yet oh so strong.
We carry on, making memories.  Because we know that where life is short, a memory is long.  And it’s all we can do is make them.

Smacked in the face with another event

The grief train is as punctual as ever, chugging along with its repetitive rasp.  Why can’t it pause at the last stop or take a wrong turn?  After all, the driver is a learner.

But no, it has a timetable and at the moment, it’s sticking to it.  Today is Easter Sunday and as I sit here contemplatively shouving chocolates into my mouth, I wonder why you haven’t risen again? If it was possible to rise again based on love alone, you’d be here.  You’d be here, tenfold.

C’mon Sweetheart.  There’s chocolate to be eaten.

Tomorrow is my birthday.  There’s wine to be drunk.

Just How?

 

How am I breathing, and fast
when I’ve seen you draw your last?
How am I standing tall,
when it’s all I can do, to not fall?
How are these cheeks dry
and breast and thigh, when heavy eyes just want to cry?
How am I not bruised and burned
as I’m disgraced that the world has turned?
How can I speak instead of ball
when it’s no longer your name I can call?
How can I hear
when I still hear your voice just like it’s near?
How do I not scream
when now I only get to see you in a dream?