slow, like honey,

my tears drip down my cheeks

i'm reading about the benefit of funerals when it hits me

a wave of grief

remembering the funeral home

the countless hours spent there.

cements the fact that you're dead.

gone.

just a body lying there in the casket.

helps those of us left behind to face reality.

i'm sad. i'm frustrated. i'm feeling left out. i hate it.

i'm having surgery, no matter how minor, it is surgery, and you won't be here or even make a phone call to express concern

or relief that everything went ok

to check up and see how i'm doing

why is it easier to cry alone

i don't want it to be this way

how do i tell you

i want help. i'm stubborn.

you may not understand, but someone has to be first. just happens to be me.

i'm a different person now, it's confusing

how much will return to 'normal' and how much will not

such a lonely place

the book calls this a grief spasm.

i'm not going to be feeling well soon

that's when it always hits me.

won't i be a charming little mess in a few days.

gentle poetic grief...ha, not mine. not now. must be an invention of time.

frustrated angry grief. so much left unsaid grief.

why. so many whys.

some things are making more sense.

others never will.

sleep. you dirty stranger you.

someday.