Swinging off Grief Street

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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.

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