I don’t know about you, but I find it hard to deal with the “grief bursts . . tsunamis. . . tidal waves . . . ambushes” — whatever you want to call them. They sneak up on me at the most inopportune moments. (That’s a laugh, isn’t it? . . . Is there ever a “good time” to get hit with one of those? I think not.) And yet, 15 months out from Brian’s death, it seems like there are still those times that hit me like a punch to the gut. The ones that bring me to my knees. Like just the other day. It appeared, totally unexpected and out of nowhere, leaving me feeling like he’d just died 15 days ago instead of 15 months. It is still almost impossible for me to fully grasp the fact that he is gone forever; that the part of my story that includes him has ended, and all I have left are memories and photographs. No matter how you look at it, I hate it.

Mind Games

You really are gone . . . aren't you. . . 

Meanwhile, I'm still here, with an ache in my heart from not having you near.
The ache that reminds me nearly every day, that you are now, and forever, far away.

I know why you're not here. I know that you've died.
But my mind just cannot grasp it, though God knows I've tried.

I can't sort it out. Life keeps spinning around.
Some days I am soaring ---- and on others I drown. 

You made me the person that I am today
and it still breaks my heart that you couldn't stay.

God, give me the strength to make a new start --
Use the tears that I cry to mend my poor heart.

    Julieanne Gentz