We let her go.
It’s the work ahead that is so daunting. A wise friend told me once the advice she had received from a poetry professor – that we memorize poems that we love in order to carry them with us, and draw on them when we need them. Many do this with scripture as well. I recall a poem that touched me the first time that I read it because it speaks to this work ahead. I put it in front of me as we moved from task to task during the past week. I say it now as I try to pull myself out of bed and back into a world without her.
Last night, before we tried to sleep, we told each other how lucky we are to have this family. I know that, but I can’t taste it yet. I understand that it’s there, but it’s not mine yet. For a fleeting moment, when those balloons tumbled through the air and spiraled up towards those sunbeams in the clouds I recognized it as joy, so I know that it’s in there. I store that away because I treasure it and know that I want it to return.
my dreams, my works, must wait till after hell
I hold my honey and I store my bread
In little jars and cabinets of my will.
I label clearly, and each latch and lid
I bid, Be firm till I return from hell.
I am very hungry. I am incomplete.
And none can tell when I may dine again.
No man can give me any word but Wait,
The puny light. I keep eyes pointed in;
Hoping that, when the devil days of my hurt
Drag out to their last dregs and I resume
On such legs as are left me, in such heart
As I can manage, remember to go home,
My taste will not have turned insensitive
To honey and bread old purity could love.