I miss

Warm tea in the living room

Sharing afternoons

In a calm house

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There is no peace like

Sipping wine with a book

In a well-tended garden.

5 Months

Today is five months since we lost you.

It feels so short

And so long.

Next month they say we should be better.

We may get better at this new life,

And appear to move on as we garden, work and plan,

But death is not fixable.

Death is an ever-present partner carried at the chest,

Wondering who will be next,

And if I will be ready for more ghosts.

Bereavement (5 months)

There is no feeling better,

No moving on.

There are only two choices:

Pretend to forget or

Accept this new world you didn’t agree to

You don’t recognize

You don’t want.

You spend 17 hours a day building

The life you wanted before that moment,

One hour knowing you never will,

Six sleeping.

And the clever joke, what makes every day more than just bearable,

Are all the smallest things you love.

A reluctant pre-toothbrush kiss,

The feeling of soil on your hands when you put flowers in the ground,

Digging toes in freshly vacuumed carpet,

Getting out of work early on Friday.

Because life is still the most beautiful thing there is.

Why else such pain?