Beginning the Grief Walk

What I have learned from grief is to

Allow the waves of grief to wash over me 

to work on me

After the waves crash

The receding water makes evident what is left of this life 

And what is gone

In the beginning 

The crash of the cold heavy water hurts 

Crushing and terrifying 

The beach seems bare, 

all taken back by the great sea that birthed it

In grief 

Something always feels unfinished

Like this poem, it is imperfect, raw

The pattern is that there is no pattern

Only inconsistencies

Taking me over and pulling me under

In the beginning

I try to remember how

Over time I find the rhythm 

That is part of who I am becoming

The willingness to release it

In fragmented pieces

In its rudimentary form

Mannerless, unrefined, clunky, and desperate

It makes its way into my bones

The sorrows of realizing 

We don’t always know the last time

Is happening

The last time I carry a child

Before they’re too heavy and grown

The last time we hold hands and cook together

The last kiss

That was more than the first

I know one day I will long for the bittersweet wave to wash me clean

I’ll long for the connection to what is no longer here in physical form

I will even long for the rawness of the first moment 

You were no longer here

Like the first kiss

I will walk the shoreline

Between this world and the other

I will notice how

As the waters retreat 

The shells and gems sparkle

Half buried in sand and time 

The subtleties of what grief reveals about love is hard to remember in the beginning.