Heavy Is My Grief

                                 Heavy Is My Grief

Weighing down my arms and legs

My eyes, feeling too heavy to open

Grief making each breath feel trapped

Halfway between my stomach and my throat

Where it would catch

And then each time, I would come back in a panic

To the future that I didn’t want to be a part of

And I’d remember to inhale            exhale             inhale

Just to start the process all over again

I started to talk to you, and tell you

How life has been going

But I stopped

Because this time I couldn’t.

So heavy is my grief

This time, I don’t want to imagine what your life would be like now

The what if’s don’t matter anymore

They’ve been taken away and now you are just GONE

Just gone.  Never to be held, touched, hugged, caressed, kissed again.

I’ll never get to listen to your silly jokes, or hear that laugh, so full of joy 

Who will I make whole bowls of potato salad for now?

Or watch, amazed as you hit the buffet 3-4 times before you stuff food into your cheeks and gums “for later”

My silly, beautiful, greedy, kind, funny, generous, forgiving girl is just GONE

And right now, I’m just feeling real heavy and real angry in my grief.  Not healed at all.  I feel like I need to start my healing journey all over again, yet I know that this is actually a part of the journey.  We go back and forth.  But right now.  Heavy is my grief.