The week seemed so promising.
Events lined up,
supposed to blur the ache I carried.
If the memories I was making were loud enough,
surely they could drown out the pain.
But like a roller coaster,
there was no knowing the drop
until my body was in it.
Grief boomed through every cell
while joy and excitement
tried to smother
what was still there.
Less rest.
Less sleep.
No appetite
or perhaps more.
Eat more.
Sleep more.
Laugh more.
Do more.
Feel less.
Almost there.
The end of the week.
Nobody saw how much the fire burned,
how deep those burns went.
Healing seems impossible
when I am still wondering
whether the flames will take
the little bit of soul
I have left.
Grief pulls the strings.
Smile for the people.
They don’t know
what to do with this either.
So many questions.
No answers.
Just,
“I’m sorry for your loss.”
Almost sounds funny.
Are you sorry for my loss,
or at a loss for words,
hoping to find the ones
that will make
this conversation
go away?
