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seen from Netherlands
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Dear Grandma... #HowToGrieve #RIP #familia #poetry 💕🕊😢
at a celebration of life with each i am strengthened told tales like puzzle pieces coming together and i see them anew of reunions with old faces with traces of the people you once knew so i laugh through the tears and straighten my crown.
Day 3
On day three, you go back to trying to pretend everything is normal.
you wake up, and you realize that maybe you won’t cry today. but of course you will but you think to yourself, I feel like maybe i might not. and you slip back into a routine. and it’s easier to get out of bed. but then halfway through the day, you realized that your heart is just masking everything so that you can function, and maybe you should try to eat something now that isn’t coated in sugar, but then again fuck that, so at 12:30, you buy a frosted honey bun, and one for your son, because he’s hungry and doesn't understand why mommy doesn’t want to cook, and it’s already lunch, and you pick up a cup coffee too, but you don’t finish either. Food doesn’t taste the same. grieving is like watching an ocean. it doesn’t feel like my grief. its like watching someone else in pain but youre standing on the beach, carefully observing everything, examining, taking notes. Because a broken heart is something we rarely see in true form. it is truly fascinating, to witness, someone, in so much pain. So you just watch yourself drowning, drowning, and you observe, and you wonder if this tide will suck you under. but on day 3, you realize, it won’t, because you won’t let it, right? and the grief comes in waves. in sudden spurts. like when you're making breakfast (when you feel like cooking) and you suddenly are hit by a flash of memory, or you imagine how they died what did you think about? did it hurt? (it must’ve) did you think about me? and you ask open ended questions with no real form, and no real answer. Love? Pain? And on day 3, you just are.
Damn October
I heard the bells of St. Peters Basilica, and something inside me, something welled up, and spilt the banks of my eyes.
Walking down the sidewalk, tears streaming down my face and I have not one single clue why. Oh, sure, lovely thing the chiming of church bells, and weddings are happy occasions (as that’s why they were chiming).
Minute by minute, the first deaths of autumn loomed last week… by…
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