Teach Me How to Come Up for Air (imperfect thoughts in the throes of grieving)
at first I constantly awoke
I, who cannot swim.
the horror of your passing
flickering in my mind
and letting go
are a messy affair no one is ever prepared for.
in our short lives,
one receives no guidance.
good and horrific memories are entwined
pain is a daily companion, a loathsome one,
but also an unexpected friend. I've learned
to allow it in. It has become
part of me like sinew and blood.
there are good days, and on those days,
I feel you in the rumble of your sibling's footfalls,
I hear you sigh and rustle through the leaves,
I see you in each face that smiles
kindly, vaguely, in my direction.
watch over me.
I never thought myself a strong person,
but I was stronger when you were here with me.
I am adrift.
you wouldn't want me alone and frightened.
you would want me to go on.
I am not angry that you left me behind, but maybe I am more than a little angry that I let you go so easily.
who didn't yet know you were gone,
but who loved you very much, is so very hard
who don't know you,
and those who knew you well,
but who are indifferent at best, is harder still--
it fills me with spite and rage.
you wouldn't want me bitter and filled with hate.
you would want me to live on.
many things had gone unsaid,
but give me a solitary chance to utter
just one more long breath
before you are one
with the stars saying good night:
I loved you the brightest.
I loved you completely.