Seasons of grief, part 2
/Today’s post continues a series of poems by Kathy on the seasons of grief. Kathy’s first post focused on the shock and weight of first loss.
Time becomes the enemy. Grief doesn’t fade—it circles back, relentless. Months and holidays drag the loss into the present, forcing memory into ritual and repetition.
december, again
my body knows
it quivers into december,
as warm wreaths brighten up lampposts
set against skies rich with winter coming
as oak trees hide their naked branches
and muskrats burrow holes high on the river bank
my body always knows
nothing is more predictable than time,
but calendars do not share any secrets with grief
i stare down the aisles of big box stores, bewildered,
and i wonder,
what birthday presents would i have bought for her this year?
it’s coming on christmas
there’s so much pressure around the holidays
i wonder if she hadn’t died so near christmas
if i would feel so suffocated
by the fear of messing up this season
of getting the wrong bow for her wreath
or snagging her stocking
or hanging her ornaments backwards
or ripping her snowflake stickers
or not donating enough toys in her honor
or on and on and on and on
but the worst that could happen
if i do it all wrong
is that she is already dead
but she is already dead
and the most perfect attempts to keep her alive
won’t change that
one damn bit
sad in summertime
i know where the air is
but i can’t seem to swallow
it is not like an herd of elephants
it is more like a reruns of Roseanne
crackling constantly in the background
and i’m not hungry
but my stomach aches for something
maybe it is food
but it also feels like the sensation
of a mouse far inside
scratching to get out
so i eat but it is paper
and my body does not know me —
but it knows enough not to quit
so i zip up the baggies full of goldfish
and put turkey in between two pieces of bread
and move clothes from one side of the house to another
dirty, clean, dirty, clean
and grief is my constant shadow,
sometimes appearing larger than it really is.
As we near the end of another year, a hard one for so many and for so many reasons, what is the season of your grief?