My grief lives in little boxes.
I put them up on a shelf
Like gifts to revisit
But the gifts bring pain
Sometimes I can choose when to open them
And other times they are like that surprise that shows up on your doorstep
The unwelcome guest that no matter how many times you tell them you are not interested in what they have to offer…they keep coming back
Some of the gifts are worn, dusty, old
Others still have their shine, their newness, the luster that attracts me to pick them up, examine them, hold onto them for a while.
How much would I love to replace the gift on the shelf with one more cup of coffee
One more late night piano concert
One more story
One more hug or kiss. One more I love you
How is it we never learn
Never talk about this pain
How much more can my heart take? How does one continue to live…
Funny how something that has caused me so much pain…I call a gift
My gifts have names
Each one of these lives had impact. Big or small. And they will always be remembered in my heart.