Waiting

Grief is a funny thing, in a not so funny way.
It sneaks up and grabs you about the legs, quickly and efficiently climbing up and invading ones heart, ones mind in mere seconds.

And I struggle to understand...so very many things, but in this regard, why must it be so fucking powerful?

I bury it. I bury it wayyy down deep, so I can...you know...function, and something happens, whatever it may be, and bam! It is closer than yesterday, it is now--every smell, sound, feeling--powerfully alive again, even though it was so long ago.

And it's like...that image...I want to run, not walk, across that veil and find her waiting for me. ...sigh... no matter how many blessings a person can count...it just...it just hurts. So very much.

That is all. I apologize for closing comments. I'm fine...no worries.


"Fever Dream" Iron & Wine [link]
Some days her shape in the doorway
Will speak to me
A bird's wing on the window
Sometimes I'll hear when she's sleeping
Her fever dream
A language on her face

I want your flowers like babies want God's love
Or maybe as sure as tomorrow will come

Some days, like rain on the doorstep
She'll cover me
With grace in all she offers
Sometimes I'd like just to ask her
What honest words
She can't afford to say, like

I want your flowers like babies want God's love
Or maybe as sure as tomorrow will come