Reflections on Grief (Free Verse)

We hear of endings
the last time
that last moment
saying goodbye
and yet,
no warnings of “firsts”
first Christmas
first New Year
first birthday
and many other firsts
who would have known
the last would turn full circle
to the first
being as tender as that last day
bittersweet in many ways
ingredients of woe
are recipes of grief.
how to separate sorrow
from blissful memories?
you don’t
it’s not planned
it’s processed
it’s lived
it’s worn
like an old hoodie
fitted like a soft duvet
feeling like a heavy blanket
struggling with the heaviness
of fond narratives of a past

ah but the weight one feels
of such collections that we sort
but carry oh so selfishly
letting go is not a language
yet understood…
hanging on to each noun, pronoun,
verbs and oh those adjectives!

Time does not lighten this quilt
but our heart becomes accustomed

weaving heartfelt stories
every shade and colour
securing them with bonded yarn
strong, everlasting scripts
never-ending stories
our heritage woven lovingly
… a family heirloom.