Beautiful Bittersweet Life Poems

Exploring the world of life and grief through poetry.

Tag: Living with Grief

  • The Gift I Didn’t Ask For

    The Gift I Didn’t Ask For

    I sat slumped on the floor,
    the wrapping torn off the box.
    As I reached inside,
    I already knew that I didn’t want this present,
    but there was a no return policy stapled to the gift.

    Who was the giver that would lay
    such a heavy unwanted inheritance
    for me to carry with me
    as I wander the world for the rest of my days.

    The giver sits next to me,
    wrapping one arm around my shoulder
    as their other hand wipes away
    the tears that run down my cheeks.

    “Dear one,” they say,
    “I know that this present feels like a curse,
    and you’d rather that I’d disappear with it,
    leaving your world unshaken.”

    “But grief is interwoven with the love that preceded it
    like a finely knitted sweater.
    The tattered garment that you now possess
    is the love that remains.”

    I pulled the sweater to my heart,
    rubbing the holes that plague this once intact garment,
    knowing that my body will learn to adjust to the chill that the holes let in,
    while the rest of the sweater will warm me with your memories and love.

  • Elephant Memory of Grief

    Elephant Memory of Grief

    Like elephants’ store memories
    that allow for their survival
    and to protect them from danger,
    we amass our grief experience.
    And though we would like to forget the pain
    when emotional anniversaries arise,
    our insides never forget.

    The brain says, “The anniversary of your beloved
    is close at hand.”
    And whether it was a year, or 13 years, or 25,
    your brain replays the time leading up to that
    horrible day in anticipation, as if it will happen
    again. No matter how rational your brain,
    death never makes sense.
    The absence is too profound.

    The heart says, “Your heart will always
    ache for your loved one.”
    You’ll wonder how you will walk through
    one more deathiversary, no matter
    how well you manage in life.
    For it’s the companionship, encouragement,
    the morning hug, and the support that your
    special person gave you will never be matched,
    for they were one of a kind.

    The body says, “Even if your brain and heart could forget,
    I will remind you as I course through your system,
    like defibrillator paddles”
    The tightness in the chest returns.
    The tears flow down your cheeks
    as you once again remember that this is your reality.
    Anxiety that something else bad will happen
    disrupts your days and nights
    A sluggishness returns as time stands still
    and barrels to the date of dread.

    The first year was the hardest
    because I truly thought that Mike would die again
    and I would have to relive the nightmare,
    not yet comprehending that death happens once.

    Now, my brain, heart, and body know
    that I can’t predict what day
    the anticipation will kick in,
    but it will come.
    I’ve also learned that the day itself will never be
    as bad as the days leading up to the death date,
    though the day after might be.
    However, my system will settle down to
    the low hum of grief that is
    forever a part of love.

  • Night Tears

    Night Tears

    In the darkness of the night,
    when my body wants nothing more than to sleep,
    I awake to the quiet of my room,
    Alone, lonely, tears forming in my eyes.
    Unprovoked by dreams,
    the sadness shows up,
    an unwelcome friend that
    doesn’t get the hint they weren’t invited
    and it’s time to leave.
    “Sweetheart, it’s okay to cry,” they say.
    “Not at 4 in the morning!” I shout,
    as I try to lull myself back to sleep.
    “Okay,” they answer, “I’ll see you later.”
    And they evaporate just like the
    tears that had escaped.
    And I managed to drift off until
    the morning light filters through the window.
    As promised, they meet me as I open my eyes,
    gently stroking my face, reminding me
    that the tears will always come,
    but so will the joy and laughter.
    “It’s because you love, my darling,
    that you must feel it all.”

  • She Lives in Me

    She Lives in Me

    For Mom

    I breathe in your essence,
    what you’ve infused into my soul.
    I miss your embrace and the sound of your voice.
    And yet, I feel you walking beside me.
    It’s the light in my eyes when I
    lead with curiosity, whether it’s meeting new people
    or trying new experiences.
    Your childlike wonder showed me
    how to explore the world.
    The willingness to make mistakes and fall,
    knowing that I would rise again.
    You taught me to laugh at myself,
    to laugh with others, but not at them.
    I miss when you’d say,
    “I’m so proud of you.
    You reinvented yourself.
    You could have just given up,
    but you kept going.”
    Those words were uplifting,
    reminding me that I found a way to live
    in the face of grief and trials.
    I never minded
    as your memory faded
    to hear those precious words on repeat
    until they disappeared as well.
    The gift of encouragement,
    especially on days
    that are overwhelming and exhausting,
    still resound in my head.
    It is also a reminder to pay it forward,
    telling those I love how proud I am of them,
    hoping to spread your warmth
    that you left in my keeping.