time

it's been awhile since i've written.  i've been busy working two stores, worrying about things, sewing the last Memory Quilt i'll ever make for a stranger, sewing for my daughter's baby who is due at Christmas, and simply trying to get by.

i got my mammogram results.  i'm good. that was nice to know.

i was supposed to have a routine colonoscopy done yesterday but ........ ,

and i truly hate to type this ...

again,

i've got pneumonia.

*very small sigh since i can't catch my breath too well at the moment*

i lay propped up in bed at night and i think too much.

i did have a dream the night before i found out how sick i was.

i dreamed i was drowning.  i was choking.

i was clutching my throat and my chest.

in my dream, this horrific dream of drowning,

i was in bed.  not in or near nor could i see 

any water.

all of it was in my lungs.

when they said that word ~ pneumonia ~ i closed my eyes and tears fell.

life is cold and aloof.

life has no emotions nor does it concern itself with individuals.

it simply is the passing of time.

people talk about how the life of a person can be measured.

mine will be measured, it seems, by the use of and number of humidifiers i go through

just so i can breathe; try to open up my lungs.

i hope my life is not measured.

i hope, when i pass, that it is me who is examined.

not my life.

me, the person me.

i saw a passage in a book.

"i am more than my wallet."

 and i am.

i am a nice person.

i am trying so hard to remember that when people are mean.

 

 the above is true.

food on the table.

i let myself get hungry.

i paid my bills and did not alert my children that i did not have enough to eat.

because i thought i could last until my next paycheck on dry cereal, toast,

and tea.

i could not.

my job has too much physical labor.

i got dizzy at work and almost passed out two days in a row.

it broke me.  i got scared.  so i called my son who sent me money for food.

until it could arrive 12 hours later {he transferred it from his account into mine}

my daughter came up with bags of food for me to eat right then.

both were so upset with me and with good reason.

i didn't ask for help.  i was too embarrassed.

but i was grateful and thankful

and promised i would never let that happen again.

they got angry because they love me and i put my health in jeopardy.

i have been contrite ever since.  ashamed i causedm the this worry.

to doubt me.  am i telling the truth about what i ate today?

i have promised them i always will.

 

i've always been drawn to the above message.

it's been in my mind for years and years.

death is the painful truth.

he isn't coming back.

i have had no signs from him or of him.

he is gone.

i have avoided the after life books for one simple reason.

i do not wish to explore it.

i do not really want to know.

my turn will come.

i will find out then.

in the meantime i have thought about the

"life is a beautiful lie"

part of that message.

what does that mean to me?

that there is no such thing as life.

it is a synonym for time.

how we spend our time is what is important.

i think life is a scientific term that allows us to distinguish

between organic and inorganic matter.

"life all the days of your life!!"

i can hear the gusto and frustration in someone's voice who feels compelled to blast someone with that quote.

"you're existing but not really living!"

they mean you're not using your time here with the joy they believe you should have.

time.

it really is all about time.

someone told me that all my creative endeavors were a wall i was building to hide behind.

they said i should try to meet someone.

i should at least date.

i smiled at them.  i felt sorry for them.

they wanted to know when i would be ready.

i said this,

"i have always been creative.  i have always had to make things.

if no one saw them, they still had to be made.

i am an artist.

it was never something i hid behind.

it is something i am.

and my Dragon loved that about me.

he never interrupted me while i was working on something.

he would sit in the same room and wait until the muse quieted and i came back to this reality."

 

 i am creative.  i am an artist.  i just have to work outside my "studio" to make money to eat.

yes, i ate 3 meals today.

i am feeling stronger.

i still cry about losing him.

i still long for him.

i ache at times.

death is the painful truth.

life is a lie.

i am not living but i am spending my time here wisely.

and i will do better because i promised my children that i will eat 3 meals a day,

or ask for help so i can do that.

my time here without him is lonely.  i am a lone goose flying the darkening skies knowing winter is coming.

and by winter i mean old age.

i hurt in my joints.  i get scared over things that didn't use to frighten me.

i struggle to leave home beyond work or visiting my daughter.

i make no plans.

"the days grow shorter, the nights grow longer;

the headstones thicken along the way,

and life grows sadder, but love grows stronger,

for those who walk with us day by day.

the tear comes quicker, the laugh comes slower;

the courage is lesser to do and dare;

and the tide of joy in the heart falls lower,

and seldom covers the reefs of care.

but all true things in the world seem truer;

and the better things on earth seem best,

and friends are dearer, as friends are fewer,

and love is all as our sun dips west.

then let us clasp hands as we walk together,

and let us speak softly in love's sweet tones,

for no man knows on the morrow whether,

we two pass on or but one alone.

~ Ella Wheeler Wilcox

my lovely Dragon has passed on and i am alone.

were someone to ask i would say, "yes, i am grieving."

and i simply do not understand those who do not understand that it is possible to

grieve like this.  quietly.  respectfully.  without really telling anyone how lonely i am.

i've stopped admitting it to anyone though no one really asks with the sincere intent to know.

i miss him.  i wish i could hear his voice and feel the touch of his hand.

i wish we could fly together into winter's cold days and dark nights together,

but some part of fate believed i could do this alone.

i am without my mate.

i am lost in the storm of the beautiful lie that is life.

my time is being spent being creative.

because.

it is what i do.  it is who i am.

and it passes the time.

until........ 

Turkey Day 2011 ~ when everything goes wrong

she looks pretty up there, in her store-bought fancy dress and shoes. but that's it for a while. no more photos.

it's been a tough week.

first, my hair dryer died. then my heater died. then my vacuum burned out a belt. hair dryer? my daughter gave me hers. she doesn't use it. heater? can't afford another one. vacuum belt? gonna pick one up Monday.

as for a new camera? can't afford it at this time. no more photos. no more fun. no more escape for me for a while. i am very sad over this. it is just one thing, one little thing that is sort of too much.

i have been doing a lot of thinking of late. gauging how i am doing on this road that my Dragon's death has put me on. i cannot measure my own journey against anyone else's. not going to be dating. not even considering it. money is so tight; very hand-to-mouth. so many little things going wrong. money out the door that i cannot afford to spend. i had to buy a new starter for my car, Midnight. had to. need the car. i cried all night long over that one. i had thought that my own personal apocalypse with Dragon's death that life's little troubles wouldn't be a problem. but that's not true. all this has brought me down. made me feel like i have done something wrong that made these little appliances break. didn't do a good job of taking care of them.

and now my camera is forever broken. my heart hurts over this. i love taking photos of Bunny. she conveys with her poses when words fail. i feel lost.

i miss him. but i keep remembering that woman saying to me: missing him is NOT grieving.

but it feels like it; the depth that i miss him. it feels like grieving. i cry. i sigh so heavily. my want of him is so great, to have him here to talk to, to have him present in my apartment, my life; to have him waiting for me when i get back from work.

i have so many of my things back and i know how blessed i am. i do feel like i am at home and yet, this is not home. i am struggling with finding my footing. i am slow to find my way. i do not feel safe. i know my children would move Heaven and Earth to make me safe, but for some reason, i wait too long to ask. i get ashamed that i cannot make my money stretch when it is just me all by myself. but it's retail. i make so very little hourly.

this week for example. i ran out of food. i was down to bread and cheese. grilled cheese every day. one can of tuna fish that i saved for our big Wednesday before Thanksgiving for lunch at work that i ate with a fork because i ran out of bread finally. i brought food back with me from my Thanksgiving meal with my daughter. i got my paycheck Wednesday in direct deposit. making my grocery list tonight. have to be at work at 5 AM in the morning, but that means i will be out in the middle of the afternoon. i can go to the grocery store.

but i got hungry, and too low. and i got sick frequently. kept it to myself. shaky. with having to buy the starter for my car, i had nothing left over for enough food. and i think that is where i differ from some widows. i don't have enough money to survive sometimes. it is always there in front of me and it makes missing him that much harder. he always told me, "everything's going to be alright." i say it to myself, but i don't believe me sometimes.

heavy mottos i keep in my head: "be frugal." "you don't need that." "balance that account to see what is left." "don't make a move." "grit your teeth and hang on a 8 more days, until payday."

i am always eeking by by the skin of my teeth. hanging on with my bloody fingernails is a more colorful expression. but i do hang on. my Dragon would be proud of me. stiff upper lip. no one knows at work really how very hard my day-to-day life is. they do not know about this blog. and i only tell you here now because......

because i have no one else to tell. i want my children to breathe and sleep untroubled.

i will wait until it is life or death.

and the way my life has gone, that might be just around the corner. that's a terrible thing to say. see? that's how much i miss my camera. i am a little bit heartsick.

but i am grateful for what i have accomplished at work. i am so grateful to have my things back and i still weep with humble gratitude. i adore my children. i love my dogs. i like my job very much. and i got a raise. yes, Bunny was good enough to warrant a little raise.

hopefully she'll be able to save some money. maybe she'll ask Santa for a new camera.

you never can tell when the eye of the storm might pass over you and the sun come out for a short while.

keep hanging on, Bunny. remember, Dragon loves you. he didn't want to go.

Bunny's Primal Scream ~ with visual aids

Bunny is interrupting her own blog posting with this small soliloquy.

Bun became very frustrated last posting. she took a break to gather her thoughts. what she got upset and hurt about were all the suggestions of what she could do to help herself. she had already written in previous postings of trying all of those very same suggestions. it was like those who commented had only just joined the blog. "none of us knew exactly what efforts you'd already made." all of them. she had made all of them, as written in the previous blogs.

Bun doesn't like to keep writing the same things over and over. she thinks if you want to know her, you would have read. or if you had not read her before, you'd assume from her articulate writing that she was a hard working Bunny who wasn't just sitting there waiting for handouts. she wasn't asking for advice on where to turn. she was lamenting the state of her life. just throwing it out there hoping against hope that someone would simply say, "there, there." or maybe a "stay strong, sister. we keep you in our thoughts and prayers." or throw out a "this too shall pass."

she was hoping those who read her would simply mention that they have come to sit with her in her panic and grief so she would not have felt she had reached out to a critical universe. or if you have not read her words, at least have given her the benefit of the doubt since her writing is very correct and concise and at the very least semi-intelligent sounding.

*sigh* Bunny had her hopes set too high. it was kind, yes, to see all those suggestions of what Bunny could do. it also frustrated her that 1. her previous writings had not been understood, and 2. that it was assumed she had sat down on her fuzzy tail and done nothing in all this time to try and help herself.

"those of us who have stuck by you even if we don't know you." Bunny hopes it wasn't so hard to read her words and look at her photos that you had to "stick by" her. "sticking" makes her think that she is an impossible little creep who doesn't deserve friends. "stuck by you" makes her feel like she is hard to know and even harder to really care about. but yes, if "sticking by the Bun" was what it took to ride this out with her this far then yes, you are all "pretty darn unique and special." you are all "gifts." but to tell Bunny that "even the mean lady in her own way" was only trying to help Bunny, wow......hang on a second. Bunny is teary again.

..................................................... Bunny has never thought meanness was a unique and special gift. Bunny has been on the receiving end of a lot of meanness and she just does not think that meanness is the way to reach out to anyone, especially someone who hurts. "reaching out the only way we can....." *sigh* Bunny just wishes that her previous postings with all the information had been read so that she would not have been responsible for writing it over and over in each posting, so people could keep up. or, that she was thought of as a go-getter Bun who would try and try with all her might to help herself out before lamenting her sad state.

now, someone has written to Bun and they want an explanation of what she's done and why she was turned down for benefits and help and aid. *sigh again* this is Bun's blog. she should be able to write what she wants, and not have to continue to go over material she has so many other times. but alas, she does not want to be rude. if someone demands she validate her claims and prove she has done her homework, or made calls, or tried to help herself, here, in a nutshell mind you, is what she has been told.

Medicaid ~ she is not disabled, she is working and makes a little bit too much money. she does not have children living with her that are under 17 or who are disabled.

Church ~ Bunny is on the list for anything they want to help her with. it is a long list. and no way does either of the Catholic Churches Bunny attends have the funds to hand out cars. and yes, Bunny has called Catholic Charities, but, while she qualifies for free grief counseling, there are no appointment openings at this time. they will let her know. in the meantime, they will offer up prayers for Bun and Bun should keep praying. Bunny does.

Clinics ~ Bunny does not qualify for 3 non-profit clinics because, for 1 clinic, she has a job. they serve only the unemployed. clinic 2, she makes 25 cents an hour more than minimum wage which is the cut off for that clinic, and clinic 3, she is pending insurance at work. yeah, Bunny knows. it won't be until April 2012 but it is more than a lot of people out there so Bunny was told she was living the good life and therefore does not qualify.

VA ~ we were not married long enough for me to gain free medical through them. Dragon did not die while on active duty. they are very sorry.

American Diabetes Association ~ Bunny has filled out two forms twice for a free meter but the test strips for the ones they want to send would cost Bunny $118 a month. Bunny cannot afford it even if they send the meter which they say they have but Bunny has not received it yet. she does like their online recipes though.

Food Stamps ~ Bunny has a tad more than $200 in savings which is the cut off for food stamps.

Target ~ yes, the store. the pharmacist there is going to help Bunny. there is a cheap-o meter to test Bun's blood glucose ~ $12.99. the test strips are cheap. for a box of 100, $9.99. when Bunny gets paid next week, she's headed to Target and the pharmacist is going to teach Bunny how to do it. she's a very nice lady who likes Bun very much. Bunny was the party Bunny for her daughter's birthday party at work. the pharmacist feels bad that Bun has to wait until April 2012 when she has seen how hard Bunny works. Bunny got teary when the pharmacist showed her the meter and test strips. the pharmacist hugged Bun.

Bunny thinks that's all there is. if she has missed one, she apologizes. she is having a rough time emotionally of late, but she really has tried very hard to help herself, on her own, and not be a burden. and yes, anonymous, our country is that messed up. the cracks to slip through are all over the place.

hoping she has placated her readers and the mean person with explanations of why she got frustrated, Bunny would now like to continue with her blog.

Bunny's Primal Scream

Bunny falls to the sofa and tears start to flow

Bunny cries so hard she slumpy slumps over

Bunny sits up and sighs heavily.

she misses her Dragon so much.

she expresses herself with these photographs so that she might try and convey her suffering.

this is Bunny's art, her art of grief.

it is how she expels the poison of bad thoughts.

she is trying to get through life.

in her fragile state, Bunny is worried about comments. she will disable that option for a while, just until the troubles in her life have subsided. she has a problem with Voldemort she has not made public as well as a new little health problem that has nothing to do with high blood pressure or diabetes. bear with her. maybe one day she won't be so afraid of what all of you will say to her and she will allow comments again.

until then, she wishes peace for all of you.

wolf

i have not written because i really haven’t known what to say. i wanted to let the dust settle, too, and give myself some time. or maybe give everyone else time. i did put a photo on Facebook notifying the virtual world that i was going to look inside myself for a bit.

Bunny checks out herself during a moment of self-evaluation.

i have been reading, keeping up with everyone, checking my emails. a couple of people have kept up with me, keeping in touch to make sure i am okay, and that gave me the warm fuzzies. thank you. one gave me a surprise gift of a box of floss. i loved it. it came on a day when i sorely needed to be remembered.

it's like rolling around on money but a lot more colorful.

i haven’t had more than that check in on me. my absence has largely gone unnoticed but then if someone falls by the wayside while walking with a crowd, they can go unnoticed. i read in a book recently that if you are trekking through a jungle and step off the trail for a moment, no one will miss you until they camp for the night, and then they won’t go back to look for you during the night, but wait until the next day. people keep their heads down most of the time and since i did get handed my head a couple of weeks ago i am betting the respite from my thoughts was a breath of fresh air.

i do see how busy people are. i see that some have faced the depression of coming back to their particular reality after having been with people they had a great time with. it is an understandable feeling. i see some have problems with the paperwork that comes after a death. i can commiserate as i have been waiting for, getting close to a year now, on the VA. he wasn’t killed in action and my children are grown so i am relegated to waiting. one widow of a veteran posted to an online bulletin board that the “widows of veteran’s are the new MIA’s. children grown? no rush. he wasn’t KIA? no rush to honor his service. widows of older veteran’s go MIA in the system no matter the medals or their poverty.” i tend to agree with her. i live a life in constant fear, so yes, i hate paperwork and dealing with bureaucracy, too. but i have mentioned it before. in my case it has become rhetoric rather than a battlecry.

one day during this public posting embargo of mine a very kind younger widow offered to take me out to supper. i could not go because of it being a really terrible day. it was a day i did not know if i would survive. no, not Hamlet. think King Lear. the only two things i can mention for not thinking i would make it are my terrible fear for my future and being panic stricken at needing to talk to my Dragon about everything. i was in a very bad way and felt very alone. she came over and brought food. i needed the food and yet my stomach could not take it all in. it was more than i’ve had at one sitting in a while. i ration my food and i ration each portion for each meal so when i have a lot on a plate, i simply cannot eat it all. but we ate and talked. she does not understand the delight some have taken in putting me in my place. she thinks i'm okay. she read between the lines and saw my despair, and for that i am grateful. i haven’t had much of that other than my daughter’s devoted presence. saying “thank you” to this young widow is anemic for the time she gave to me.

i came back from San Diego to more stress than what missing my Dragon brings to me. there is no point in elaborating. it means nothing to anyone but my two children and me and there is nothing anyone can do for me. i do know i need to find a way to alleviate this amount of stress before i have a stroke or a heart attack; neither of which i have the money for and it would be the worst hell on earth to be that kind of burden.

while i have been invisible online i have been sewing and looking for a job. still. i also let my imaginary Virgil take me on an inward journey, sort of like my own version of the Inferno. why have i met so many odd people during these 18 months without my Dragon, people who have no qualms about hurting my feelings? the string of characters has been extraordinary. the young widow who came over for a while thinks she and i need to collaborate on a book. i think my emotions need a new filter. i had only opened myself up for my Dragon anyway so i should go back to the old ways of being polite and unreachable. one woman wrote that i needed to get laid. i loved that one. how do you tell someone you don’t know, but for a few words online, that they need to get laid and that will “fix you right up.”

if you are reading, i only want my Dragon.

when i read that one i realized i was internalizing all the criticism coming my way as i had done with my mother and my first husband. it’s my fault. something is wrong with me. there is nothing wrong with me beyond the flaws all of us carry. my children like me as a person as well as their mother. they think i am very nice and decent. (they actually expound quite a bit but they are my children. we have a great history together so there's the loyalty thing.) and of course, my Dragon loves me. and that can be enough. i can live the rest of this life on that love alone. i do not need validation from anyone else. i never had it before. i’m just weak right now, still, because my Dragon died. it has knocked me off my feet and people mistook me for a doormat.

no one is near enough to come visit even if they wanted to. i will never have the wherewithal to ever go anywhere so San Diego was my one shot. i finally don’t feel like i blew it. i may not have a lot of photos of people hugging me, but i did get to have a couple of quality conversations over on the sidelines of everything. i don’t think i am the failure i was lead to believe.

and if it appears i have been abandoned, it is only because everyone is busy, and hurting, and dealing with things in their own lives, and reaching out for their own support to help them through. everyone is sad and handling it as best as they can. for the people who say it is solely up to me to reach out, i have. i had a nun tell me she found all my emails when she was deleting her “spam.” that’s where mine could have gone. i had a day of computer problems. maybe they went to spam, or maybe they went out into the wild dark of cyberspace and are bumping up against top-secret files or songs being downloaded. i hope my lost emails close their eyes if they run into any really bad porn.

no one really knows me. you can’t get to know anyone from the words they try to crowd in at a conference. you cannot really know someone from the words they chose to post online, and yet, i do write as honestly as i dare. i hold my secrets but what is here is from my own mind. whether i’m damned by some or supported by a few, i write for me. i have written this whole time. i just did not hit “publish.”

Bunny laughs at the button that says, “publish.”

i write because it is my voice. it is the only way i can be heard in a noisy world that forgets i am still living. and even though i feel that way, i still write. so many have been angry with me that i do not know if anyone still reads until i push someone’s button with my honestly. c’est la vie. i have had so many hurtful jabs that i feel like my tomato pincushion.

Bunny takes a moment to commiserate with her pincushion.

i will still write even if i no longer have a public who reads. i’d rather that than write what people what to hear and no longer be sentient.

after this time of introspection i know that i am damaged. but i was damaged long before i met my Dragon. he was damaged, too, and in each other we saw the love and means to heal each other. so what am i worth now that he is gone? it depends upon whom you ask. i am worth my hands that sew and can make almost anything. i am worth my empathy to anyone who needs me. i am a sensitive soul. i feel your pain.

yet what i write over and over may sound like “wolf.” over and over, the same things. “i miss him.” “i love him.” “he’s all i will ever want.” “i am lonely for him.” “i wish i could sit with someone and tell his story to them, see their eyes see me.”

“wolf!”

but sometimes the wolf is real. the first time you hear that cry from the distance, someone should go see. but they also should go again and again, every time they hear it. someone should go check on that person because there are real wolves out there. sometimes it really is as bad as someone says it is. sometimes the wolf is on the balcony of your apartment, staring at you through the glass of the sliders, and his teeth are large and very sharp.

not every person thrown to the wolves becomes a hero. sometimes we emerge so scarred that we are unrecognizable. we can emerge blind and deaf, unable to do anything more than reach out with our hands to feel around, to see if someone came to check on us. it is the ultimate act of cruelty to slap their hands away. some, like me, can do no more than eek out a meager existence with as much dignity as our battered spirits let us. no matter how good the filter, words still wound. but i need to write so i will keep checking my filter. i’ll keep cleaning it. maybe I’ll open the sliders and smack it on the head of the wolf; blind him with all the filth.

would you believe me if i told you that my Dragon was THE one, the ONLY piece to my puzzle? what if i said i will survive this but i know i will not make it all the way to grieving? what if i told you i will mourn him for the rest of my life? will you argue with me? will you tell me to go get laid?

i am working hard and looking for more work. i smile and laugh for my children. i can be happy over the gift of a box of floss. i can engage in a healthy conversation with someone who cares to stop by. but i am in mourning. still.

"wolf."

what grief will make one do

i miss my Dragon. i have almost finished the top of my own quilt. i am bringing it to San Diego, just the top, unfinished.

i read the words of widows and widowers online. it is my window to a world that is too busy to see me looking out. i am a little worried that i am not trying anymore. i am envisioning myself sitting at a table at Camp Widow alone, waiting for someone to stop by and look, to talk to me. i see myself sitting there while people team up for lunch, to hug and laugh, and i will not have the social skills to walk over much less speak. the last 17 and a half months have taught me that i am easily discarded.

i have had 3 people string me along for commissions. waiting. waiting. each time they email it is, "i'm mailing it this week." 2 weeks pass, 5 weeks. i cannot harass but i need work. i need to eat, to live. i can get angry but i have no voice. so complicated. things i cannot say. no one to say it privately to.

i miss him. he is my best friend. he would talk to me, listen to me, all day, all night, every day, every night. he noticed me. he cared about me so much. he liked me as well as loved me. and now i am silent for hours and days, weeks and months. my daughter calls every day, but we do not sit and talk for even 20 minutes. she checks in on me and then has her life to tend to. the accumulation of my silence is a weight on my mind.

with him alive, i was never alone, even when he had to leave for a mission i was not alone. he was out there loving me.

i can sometimes feel;

i tell myself;

i believe he knows i will never get over losing him.

he knows we are two who are more than a couple.....
we are one.
i miss our days together. i miss his friendship. i miss walking with him, exploring with him, living with him.
i miss our nights together.

and rising out of the heat of the day, it comes.

i have nothing to say that has not been said before. i have no new photos except for one. the moon. time passes and i grieve. i have nothing new to offer. nothing has changed for me. this is what grief will make one do. i reach out to a world that is aloof. i write to anyone and no one.

that's not true. i write to him.

maybe he knows. surely he knows. i pray he understands the power he had over me, the magic he shared with me, and the love he wove around me. i cannot breathe without him even though i do. i cannot sleep without him though i do rest upon occasion. i cannot live without him even though i am still existing.

Dragon days are coming and i am having a hard time. his birthday, our wedding anniversary, our first date. all in August. the month of my Dragon.

and 18 months ~ a year and a half. i will be alone for it. flying back from San Diego surrounded by strangers. trying not to cry. shit.

surely he is waiting. please, God, just this one thing. let him be waiting for me. i need the comfort of his embrace, his smile, and his eternal love.

i need my magnificent Dragon.

prose poems

a visual image of me is a woman sitting in an open boat with her hands in her lap. grief has etched her face with lines her husband would be unable to recognize her through. she is willing to row, and row she does at times, but mostly she is drifting because her options have rendered her powerless to set a destination.

so she writes. and draws. and sews.

no matter how hard life becomes

no matter how lonely i get

i will not risk

changing any one thing

if it might change what i had with you

your name will forever be on my lips

memories of you are my crutch

i won't improve

my life one bit now

if it would alter my before with you.

the sorrow i feel is a gift

this grief is a blessing for me

it honors the us

the you and i

it is proof of the bond we shared.

i miss you

in the morning

i wake to

ineffable sadness

the new and enduring

constant.

i rise

in physical pain

from aging,

that feels harsher

without you.

i miss you

in the afternoon

when the length

of the day

stretches out

interminably

as the cruel sun

shines down

on my life

and my future

without you.

i miss you

in the evening

when the stars

shine coldly

on a Dragon-less world.

deepening shadows

cannot shroud the grief

etched on my face

as i endure the close

of another day

without you.

i miss you

in the night

when dreams of you,

or the lack thereof,

wake me to an

empty bed

and i become

intimate

with a longing

that can never be healed

without you.