“A thousand times she has let go of grief, and it has returned to her a thousand more.” ~ Amy Weiss, Crescendo
I negotiate with grief. In the beginning, it was a heavy weight I committed to carry.
At six months, I thought she’d be lighter, or I’d be stronger. I vowed to keep walking.
First came the end of the calendar year in which my beloved died in March. Grief grounded me.
Surely, at the one year anniversary of his passing, I’d turn the page to something blank and hopeful.
But, grief had already written a pink slip on every day.
Now, it’s two years since the month I spent at his place when we delighted in magic moments and spinning memories I didn’t know I’d rely on to comfort me.
Presently, grief is lighter, like the sunlight on the fall leaves in his front yard, like the crisp morning air when I left his bed and pulled on his KISS robe as I let my dog out.
Grief is bright, like the moon the night we made love on his deck overlooking the river in the country, where I never wanted to live but now miss.
Grief is musical, like the blues he introduced me to and his deep, manly voice.
With time, grief’s become sweet, like the laughter we wrapped in intimacy and his chest holding my head as he stroked my hair.
Grief lingers. She doesn’t leave, although she’s done a little shape-shifting.
I know there will still be heavy days I can hardly stand under her weight.
But, today, I’m strong. I’ve negotiated well.
And grief, she’s beautiful, like his smile when he looked at me.