©2019 Susan Noyes Anderson

Image by Nordwood Themes on Unsplash

A new year for an altered life––
I guess it does seem fitting.
2018 hit us hard,
its sorrows unremitting.

©2019 Susan Noyes Anderson

Your room still holds the scent of you;
sometimes, I venture in.
One step across the threshold, and
the memories begin.

©2019 Susan Noyes Anderson

image by Eli Defaria on Unsplash

I know that you are busy now
with things to learn and do and see;
but when you find some extra time,
might you draw close and bide with me?

©2011 Susan Noyes Anderson

image used with permission from KmBerggren

I took you in my arms the day you came into this world.
Around your head, it almost seemed that bits of heaven swirled.
I nurtured you and cared for you and read you “Goodnight, Moon.”
But then your life came calling. You slipped away too soon.

©2019 Susan Noyes Anderson

image by Jake Blucker on Unsplash

We’re flying down the highway
on a bright, sunshiny day.
The skies are blue, the clouds colored
in white and violet-gray.

©2019 Susan Noyes Anderson

Today we bid the house farewell,
last of the last goodbyes.
Bare walls looked down on emptied shelves
as tears welled in our eyes.

©2019 Susan Noyes Anderson

I’m writing with your pen today,
the one that filled your hand.
So many things I need to say,
so few I understand.

A little over six months into this journey, I find myself trying to negotiate a sort of uneasy truce with the heartache of losing my son. I am realizing grief will be with me for a lifetime, and I feel like I’m closing in on a vision of how to carry it. On my best days, I let it sing to me, sweet memories of his life and essence that draw me closer to him and to the Savior.

©2019 Susan Noyes Anderson

image by Ines Alvarez Fdez on Unsplash

I think that as the time goes by
I feel your absence more.
The stark finality of it
grows harder to ignore.