My sister’s swinging off grief street
After husband one-and-only of
Thirty-three years died last year.
I’m a dancing divorcee—round
Two and already betting
Against the third.
Even though she lost her husband
And even though it hurts like hell
She’d sign up for marriage again.
For right now, I’m holding her hand
And she’s holding mine while I
Remember the good of companionship.
After having gone it alone for so long.
I’m her baby sister, playing substitute for him.
A double win despite unbearable loss.
But, bear it, she does.
And every day I learn a little bit more about
Why that guy never left her side—it’s comfortable.
And why she liked having him around—
Someone to share simple fun with.
My sister and I don’t have what we dreamed.
But we’ve got each other.
My sister’s swinging off grief street.
And me? I’m gaining ground.