Tag: writing

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.