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? 

Whether The Weather

Under normal circumstances I love the spring, after all, I am a spring baby.  That glimpse of pink on the shoulders of trees, bulbs in bloom…even the city looks pretty. But now, but since, but after that…. Spring sings a different song.

Yes it still looks pretty, all that extra daylight bringing in extra promise and extra dreams. But underneath that sunny exterior, for me it’s still stormy inside.  With every ultra violet ray brings just another ultra vile dismay.

I feel this, not because I wish the world in shadow and without hope.  But because of the spring he is denied.  The overwhelming sadness of a sunny day he will not see.  Shorts and shades, beats and blooms, he loved the sunny days and sunny days were his.

The weather has an impact on grief.  Our emotions are in tune with it.  It’s always assumed that sunshine makes people happy. Without ever considering that sunshine magnifies loss.  And somehow, with the beating rain and howling wind, things feel better, better because in that moment, the weather knows how we are feeling, it’s feeling it too.

First blog post – six months today

Six whole months since I lost you.  I try so hard not to put too much emphasis on dates and milestones.  We live our lives in one direction and that’s forwards, we don’t live in loops and therefore six months in should bear no significance, than any other day that I am without you. But saying this is one thing, feeling it is another.  Yet another sunrise on a day that he is not part of, that distance between us growing further.

Six months since you left me before dawn.  But with every sunrise and sunset, your luminous light remains.