Stage 7: Schizophrenia
I saw his voice.
I smelled his shadow. My love, he said,
I did not want to leave you.
Stage 15: Widow Brain
You know, when you walk into a room And forget why?
It’s like that—except
I know what I’ve forgotten: me.
Stage 1: Denial
I am on the landing halfway up, halfway down the stairs.
I remember eating dinner.
Bob, his snout over the top stair stares
My husband could be upstairs at his desk
killing demons in WarCraft downstairs in his chair watching Master Chef
Stage 48: Dammit
He was right,
He did do more dishes.
Stage 23: Self-medicating at Denny’s with Carbs
10-inch plate
8-inch pancakes Butter,
syrup teabag bleeding
onto napkin
Stage 27: Despair Joan Didion calls it the vortex
a vibrating shadow at the horizon edge connects to a memory of you
I drown.
Stage 20: Joy
Sitting on the cracked, bulbous, coffee-brown leather chair he moved in with
Bob asleep with his head on my thigh His small black body between
my legs You know the rule:
You cannot wake the dog.
I will sit here as long as I can until I have to pee.
Stage 100: Psychosis
I am paying $90 a month For a dead guy’s cell phone.
Stage 79: Progress Thinking about thinking about dating
More than a day without crying actually liked that movie walked 10,000 steps
wrote a poem about something other than my dead husband.
2 Responses
Absolutley perfect! I am a widow as well. Since 2011. You capture the heartache, sense of confusion and moments of painful hilarity (the cell phone!) of living with grief.
Thank you for your lovely comment!!! yes, painful hilarity. it’s a journey. I hope you are getting the support you need. Be well in these crazy times.