Two Years and Counting (the cost)
©2020 Susan Noyes Anderson
image by Shifaaz Shamoon on Unsplash
The world has not gone dark,
and soft stars sparkle in the sky
on summer nights.
The dawn still lights.
The rain falls gently on
dry ground, its steady sound a
harbinger of peace.
Spring shall not cease.
And there is cause to smile,
even to laugh a while
among the ones I love.
To rise above.
This planet is, in fact,
intact. But absent you,
I view it from afar,
as from a star . . .
Between the
where I am
and
where you are.
∞§∞
Since the death of my son, I often find myself feeling like I’m halfway between heaven and earth, trying to hold both sides together and doing neither justice. In his absence, a piece of my heart has gone missing, and I guess it isn’t so unusual that I would try to find a happy medium for living in that reality. That said, I am committed to pulling more of my energy back to earth, inviting my youngest son to visit me in spirit more often. (It seems hanging out on a star does not create the feeling of groundedness I am needing in this surreal life event.) It has been two years now, and I’m still learning.
If Two Years and Counting resonates with you, you might relate to another poem on a similar topic: a brighter day. It could be considered the “other side” of the equation; and it places the ball squarely in his court, which makes a lot more sense given my current and distinctly earthbound state. 🙂
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Tags: bereavement, child loss, death, grief, grief never ends, living with grief, mourning
