That most special day, has arrived and come

To mark our long lives spent together as one.

In truth, I am alone but not lonely -

As you’re so aware of because you've known me.

I have an array of memories most brilliant,

Large as the universe, powerfully resilient,

Bathed in the realm of an excess of waters,

To offer comfort in the shelter of love’s quarter.

Still….

It’s you, resplendent in the flesh and renewed,

For whom my heart pines, you as I once knew;

It’s you my hand reaches to find in the darkness

In lieu of the feel of the space’s empty harshness;

It’s you for whom I look both ways

In hopes you’ve returned and come to stay;

It’s your laughter I want to drift 'cross the air -

Would be the answer to a most fervent prayer;

It’s your sweet sound of voice, so near and so clear

That I long to hear when you call me your dear;

It’s your face I miss and look for once more,

When first I awaken, just like always before.

Still….

Your soul reaches out, ever present in design

Linked together, unerringly, always with mine

Despite the ache of loss created by the distance

Nothing can deny your depth of existence.

Lingering remnants of our shared days,

Serve well to remind me of love’s strong felt ways.

Still….

I’ll look for you despite all the scars,

In the dark evening's brightest stars,

In the moonlight’s beams near and so far,

In days most resplendent in healthy sunshine,

In flowers that grow in our garden divine,

In each clap of thunder and each drop of rain,

In the laughter of children that can’t be contained,

In the presence of loved ones and all whom we know,

In the plants that you watered, I’ll see our love grow,

In the face of adversity and all we did swear,

In the song of the cardinal rippling through the air,

In the path of the dragonfly’s fluttered flight,

In the dark of each persistent and quiet night,

In the stillness of each new day’s silence,

In the ways you'll find to offer your guidance.

Still….

I’ll seek you always in the depth of my heart

In the crux of my soul though now we're apart

We’ve always lived as one being from the start -

A picture of love beyond death‘s our finest art -

Two splendid souls, merged for all time, never to part.

Still....

Today would have been our 25th anniversary. That’s silver, isn’t it? Not that he would have gotten me anything. Well, I would have bought myself something, wrapped it, and he would have handed it to me, to “keep up appearances.”

I was young when I married him; too young, probably. But that’s what you did back then. You went away to college, met a man, came home engaged, and married him by the following spring. It was expected. I pretty much always did what was expected of me.

Richard was a good man. As friends, we got along quite well. My family liked him; so did I.

Less than five years into the marriage, I realized that, while he was a good man, he was not a good husband. Or maybe I wasn’t a good wife. We didn’t argue, at least not in front of anyone, but we usually got around that by simply not speaking to each other. There was very little we agreed on – whether I should work or stay home with the kids, how we spent our money, where we should live, who should do the housework.

I was miserable, but I stayed. For nearly 25 years, I stayed. Not for him. I didn’t owe him anything, and he would have understood if I left. No, I stayed for the children. They needed both of us – a mother and a father. So, I stayed.

I stayed right up until I didn’t have to anymore – when my youngest graduated and moved out of the house. We planned it that way, Richard and I. We didn’t tell the children, of course, but it had been planned for years. By the time I left, there were no tears, no hard feelings. The relationship was long over. This was just a formality.

And so, here I am, on the morning of my would-be anniversary, sipping coffee at the dining room table of my cozy apartment, alone. It sounds horrible, something I wouldn’t wish on my greatest enemy. And yet, I can’t think of anything I’d rather be doing. For the first time, I’m not living my life for anyone else’s sake. For the first time, I think I might be happy.

When death is fresh

I do not fight the tears.

My beloved brother is gone,

and a mysterious force grips

and holds all of me

in darkness.

An anniversary

connotes celebration,

but the first year

marker of Dan’s death

is anything but.

I begin to move, but

don’t want to.

If a pleasant memory dares

surface, I beat it back

into the darkness amid

echoes in my lonely mind:

“Too soon.”

I am in disbelief

when death anniversary

five arrives.

So soon?

My life is back on track,

but Dan again fills my thoughts

and shafts of light

penetrate the darkness.

But when a friend

offers a funny story

about my brother, I reply:

“Too soon.”

When I observe

the fifteenth year

of Dan’s death,

there is no darkness.

Just a bright light

that illuminates every

corner of his short life,

virtues, vices, silliness.

And when another brother

offers a funny story

about Dan, I reply, “Too soon.”

And we laugh uproariously.

i am trying to communicate to you the feeling of grief

i can tell you that we're roasting over god's firepit

and i am a stuck pig,

oozing oil everywhere

i can tell you that grief

is my cat pushing her paw out to be touched one last time through the bars of her carrier

and the sterile smell of euthanasia

i can tell you that grief

is the look on my father's face,

when he hears the word 'mother'

i can tell you that grief,

is when i catch my love enduring beyond existence

i want to grab you by the shoulders and direct you to a pit in the dirt and say, 'here, look, there is my grief. it's in this hole, right here.'

i want to show you

but grief is not a hole, or a sucking chest wound

grief is middling,

it is a piece of sidewalk with the water running through it

and thunder and lightning striking two miles away

i can tell you that grief

isn't all sadness

but more so,

absence

Today, what seems like a hundred years ago, I lost my life

and started a new one.

I was close to ending it all.

I was looking for a gun.

I was looking for a way out of the hell hole I was in.

I wanted to kill, and not just me.

I wanted to hurt everybody who had brought me to this place.

I felt hopeful, fighting might be worth it.

I wanted to get out.

I didn't get out,

not for a long time.

But that one night, I chose not to harm.

This is the anniversary of that night.

That problem still continues.

It makes every day worse than the last,

but I still remember that night.

A night I regret.

The night I decided to survive.

I wish I didn't regret that night, but I'm stuck reliving the horror inside.

Two people met

on their wedding night

naked and knew

the travesty of Love

There probably was

sex... pre-marital...

and maybe she said:

...You should marry me

and he worried on it:

"...alright, why not?"

so they tied that knot;

Two rings were bought

slipped on and she

put a tourniquet

on her heart:

You'll have to earn

my love...

And he worked

his arms and legs off

still there was

never enough...

in blood

lust

two children

tumbled along

in the pram

adding to the joy

and burden

of the ensemble:

...to win my love...

in deficit of luck

rolling the di

they traveled a lot

by separate cars

and spent

special occasions

apart...

as if the word

anniversary was

combination of

animosity and adversary

lip locked...

it was heart break

in the making

and we still celebrate

the day

they broke it off...

08.12.2024

Heartbreak Anniversary Challenge @AJAY9979

He and I used to count down the days to it. When the day came, he would iron the navy suit I loved and I would wear the purple dress he bought me for our first anniversary. We would dance a silent waltz around the living room, giggling like school children into the night. Sometimes we would miss our reservation and have to eat takeout in our fancy outfits.

He made sure to bring me a flower for every year we had spent together. Last year, I woke up to a basket filled with four dozen and one roses. This morning, I reached over to wrap my arms around him and embraced nothing but a cold, empty bed. Old habits are hard to break.

Now, the same date marked on my calendar feels like a black stain on the year. It's just a day that reminds me that the strong man I loved is gone. I don't hear his goofy chuckle at the television, or the sound of his sports radio echoing through the kitchen. These days, I hear nothing but the sound of my own two feet shuffling through this empty house. I feel suffocated by his absence.

I sit down on my couch, next to his spot. I can hear his voice in my ears: "Darling, everything I have is yours. Everything, that is, except this spot when my game's on. You know I get a weird angle from the other side of the couch."

He was an odd duck like that. I would tease him about how passionate he got about baseball. He would tease me when I cried while watching my soaps. No one tells you about those little things you'll miss so dearly. The banal stability of long-term partnership is comforting in ways you don't expect. When it's gone, it's like the rug is being pulled out from under you over and over from the moment you wake up to the moment your exhausted brain finally lets you fall asleep.

The doorbell rings. I shake my head and snap myself out of my pity party. I send the metaphorical guests home, sweep the floor, and get my head on straight. He wouldn't have wanted to see me like this.

I look through the peephole and see a giant bouquet of roses. My stomach does a flip as my heart beats out of my chest. Logically, I know he's not going to be holding the flowers this time. My heart doesn't quite get the message, though. I see a familiar smile peek out from behind the roses.

"Hey, grandma," he says.

"Oh—Oh, sweet pea! Please come in. Get out of the rain." I open the door wider and wave him in.

He struggles to set the vase down on the dining table.

He nervously runs his hand through his hair. "50 roses, right?"

"What's that, dear?"

"50 roses for 50 years?"

My face falls. "Yes, this would've been the big year."

He clasps my hands in his. "It still can be—still is. Mom told me about your tradition and all us grandkids are going to keep it up. So happy 50th anniversary, grandma."

He pulls me into a big hug and just holds me for a while. Before I know it, my lip begins to tremble and the dam breaks. Tears start streaming down my cheeks as my shoulders rise and fall sharply with every deep sob. I've already cried every last drop I had because I missed him. These tears are new, they're—happy. Happy because I have such a caring bunch of grandchildren. Happy because I was fortunate enough to once have been loved by him.

I finally manage to regain my breath. My grandson steps back and rifles around in his pocket. "I almost forgot—I have something for you."

He pulls out an envelope with my name written on the front in handwriting I hadn't seen in the past year. "Mom gave this to me. She said grandpa gave it to her just before—before the end to keep until the big day."

I'm shocked, though I shouldn't be. It was just like him to leave me one last surprise. I carefully pull out a folded-up letter and reach for my reading glasses.

* * * * *

Darling,

I knew that if I let you think I forgot our 50th anniversary, you would've raised me from the dead just to kill me for it. I know I'm nearing the end of my book, but our story continues to live on. I want you to know how much you mean to me, dear. Some folks are unlucky enough to never fall in love, and here I am, getting to fall in love with you over and over again.

First, I fell in love with your mind. And no, not just because you helped me keep my own head screwed on straight. No, you were smart as a whip and the top of our class all those years ago. I guess now that you can't divorce me, I can admit that I wasn't half bad at calculus. I just wanted to study with the pretty lady with the sparkling eyes.

Then, I fell in love with your heart. You guard your heart, dear, but only because you're capable of loving so deeply. You taught me how to be vulnerable and how to protect something with my life. You taught me what it really felt like to cherish someone and cherish a partnership. And darling, I cherished you until the end.

One day, you told me the good news. That day, I fell in love with you as a mother. You sacrificed for us to have the beautiful family we have today. You created life and gave me the children who taught me how to love someone more than life itself. You taught me how to always put our family first.

Some see marriage as a big decision you make one day: "I do." I see it as choosing someone every day for the rest of your life. So thank you, darling. Thank you for letting me choose you. Thank you for choosing me back. And most importantly on this day, as I'm palling around with Roberto Clemente up in the clouds, happy anniversary.

Don't let all that love go to waste, dear. Take all the love you gave me every day and give it back to the not-so-little-ones we love so much. Be nicer to yourself. Know that our kids all hope to be just like us when they get old and gray, too. We did alright.

* * * * *

I close the letter and smile.

"Are you okay, grandma?"

"Yeah." The clouds part to let a sunbeam through the living room window. "We're okay."

I sit on a bench, glancing back and forth,

The sun bathes the surroundings in splendor,

Highlighting the lively atmosphere,

Kids chasing one another,

Women lounging in leisure,

Teenage girls stealing glances at sun-kissed boys.

The giggles and laughter fill my ears,

Yet, I feel like an empty, useless soul,

Despite the joy, sadness creeps back in

The darkness persists despite the sunshine’s warmth,

It has found its roots in me,

Sharp and insistent.

Tears stream down my cheeks

Perhaps due to the breathtaking scene before me,

Or tears of joy, I am not sure,

But deep within my heart,

The feeling lingers on,

The feeling of missing a soul.

I don’t want to lose you

don't want to leave you

don’t want to keep leading you on

but I spilled the ashes

I lost the key

I broke it off

burned the “and” from between “you and me”

I told you no when our futures didn’t align

said it again when you told me that you'd change your mind

I can’t pretend that we could have been fine

I’d carry guilt of knowing you changed for me

and maybe you’d have me, but you‘d be unhappy

so we walk this line

we call ourselves friends

we never address it because we know how it ends

but lost in the background

I think we both scream

I wish you could love me

My grandpa passed away from cancer when my mom was only 19, and her 8 younger siblings were between the ages of 17-2. My grandma was often asked how she could make it alone. She always replied, "I'm not alone; I have my children and God with me. With God, all things are possible."

And she was right; God made a way for her and her children. Times were hard sometimes, but working together, they were able to overcome everything.

Nearly 30 years later, Grandma still has God with her, and now she has 9 children and their spouses, and 35 grandchildren (with more on the way) and 2 great grandchildren to walk by her side.

My Grandma is a cheerful, hardworking, wonderful woman who is an inspiration to all around her.

Sometimes, near their wedding anniversary or my grandpa's birthday, I see her eyes and know that she's missing him. But at these moments we gather closer and stronger together to support and comfort her.