Decaf
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it's just a broken keurig —
it brewed so many cursed cups of decaf
while i was waiting for her
and then so many reluctant cups of the strong stuff
while i was retraining my body to breathe.
The unthinkable
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Sixteen years have passed since I lost a baby. I’m now solidly in middle age, and I no longer keep an ‘unthinkable’ file. Humans suffer all kinds of pains and traumas, and somehow we endure. I’ve come to accept that life is many things—mysterious, unpredictable, painful, and beautiful—but fair, it is not. And that’s okay.
Read MoreOn writing
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It tapered off slowly, the writing. I’d find myself starting a new post with the bemused observation that it had been two months since I’d last written. Then it had been three months, then five, and now I might write twice a year. The last post was for her birthday. January. The only post this year. It’s been a crazy year, this one. But still, I wonder what happened to time when I passed it all writing. Where did I find it that time? What did I ignore or neglect or simply cease to notice while I was writing? How is grief so all-consuming and then one day… it’s not?
Read MoreThe journal
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I sat with it on my lap, my hands resting on the cover, my eyes closed. My throat closed up and I felt tears sting my eyes, all from touching it. This journal has become a visceral talisman of all those emotions that are too big for me to hold inside of myself. So they live here. Safely tucked away, but still with me.
Read MoreBetter
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Gradually time moved forward and I began to participate in my life again. Slowly, I began to feel. When I previously felt hollow and numb, I now began to function on more than just auto-pilot. I tried to be more empathetic to other people’s situations and I tried to be kinder and less judgemental. Although I still sought out sadness, I tended to do it at more manageable times, perhaps more secretly and alone. Instead of crying in public, I would save my tears for when I was in bed at night while the rest of my household slept.
Read MoreWhat it's like
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These questions remain, hanging: Where would he have sat at Thanksgiving? What costume would he have worn for his first Halloween? (a ghost, he was going to be a ghost, just as his sister was her first Halloween). Who would he have become?
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