We are never ready

We are never ready
For the call
No matter how often
We tell ourselves we are.

It comes
In the night
To hijack our hearts
And render us

In the movie theater
Of our life
Memories of the one we lost.

As if their life is the Sunday matinee
That we just bought
A ticket to

And side movies begin to play
Of all the lives they
Touched and intertwined with
All the blessings they bestowed
Upon all of us they touched

And the sense of loss is
Like a white noise
I’ve only heard before
When death has taken
others whom I
I cherish

And here again
I step into
the shoes of grief
Not purchased
Not desired
Yet they fit
And they are mine
And somehow I know them

They are my shoes to wear
Until this loss
Can be absorbed.
They will carry me through
Until the fresh waves
Of loss
Wash over me
And the salt water of grief
Holds me
In its swells and surges
Rising and falling
In its own pattern
Not of my making
But for me to feel
To process
To withstand

Until my feet can rest on solid ground
Once again

For grief will find me
All the days
Of the rest of my life.
Of that I am certain.
It is truly the price
We pay for the
Honor of loving.

I now know that this grief, too,
Will patina with age
As time and prayer
And memory and love
Stitch my sore, tender heart
Back together anew
With the stitches becoming scars
Where my heart has been
Torn open with grief

I know I will mend.


Alongside the grief –
Buried in the grief
Somehow –
Each day onward
There will be endless gratitude for
All that she was
All that she imparted
All that she gave
And the honor
That I got to be
Her granddaughter
Her goddaughter
Her friend
For 58 years
On this planet
And, still, in a way
In my core
For the rest of my life

And moving through grief
Honoring her life
By how I seek to live mine
will be my life’s journey
From this day forth.

For that is
how much
I loved her.

For that is
How much
I love her still.