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A little over a year

It’s a little over a year,

love,

I thought it would be getting easier.

It’s strange how food loses its flavor,

how everything can seem so empty,

of meaning, of purpose.

How could I ever think my writing

could sum up how we were,

Mother and son, nurse and patient,

closer than anyone can imagine.

I understand why those of us left behind

consult oracles, psychics, ouiji boards.

Anything that might give a sense of

the  presence of our loved ones again

seems acceptable,

even things completely irrational

when separated from our loss.

And your siblings, so much time lost

with them,

but no complaints, not ever,

from them, from your step-dad.

That is how much we all loved you

and love you still.

In some way we all felt it was worth it,

you were worth it,

and so much more.

All the laughter you brought us,

all the joy.

We were, we are, so blessed

to have known you, to have had you in our lives.

Sleep sweetly my baby, dear brother, dear friend.

We loved you then, we love you still,

and your love may be what heals us.

 

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