Cam was the one who taught me how to peel oranges. I remember spending an entire weekend at his Dad’s doing nothing but having orange peel offs. Our hands smelled of citrus for weeks. Honestly he always had a slight citricness about him. Our first Christmas together he had hidden one in my stocking. All the way at the very bottom. I remember looking at him and thinking “this asshole thinks I’m fat!” Lol ???? how little I knew back then.
I still carry on that tradition with my kids as he is ingrained into the essence of who I am. I’ve always felt him most with Aj. I don’t know why though. Maybe their souls passed in that realm between creation and completion. Or my own mind constructing what it can to make sense of this senseless life.
In my darkest times I am embarrassed to say you could find me lying on a cold floor eating an orange and crying. I know. I know! I have already said numerous times how crazy I truly am. These just ended up being things that comfort without harming. Hopefully without harming.
Grief never stops
Does not sleep
Does not eat
It cares not for holidays
Or family
It waits like addiction
Until you’re weak enough
Jumping on your back like an excited toddler
Barking demands
Freely abusing at will
Tormenting me until I am broken
The cracks created spears poking splinters throughout my skin.
As the water rose it intertwined itself in to the very pattern of my cells.
Until finally came the freeze.
Busting holes like an uncared for highway in the fields.
Leave me.
Don’t grab glue or assemble it to fit back where it once was.
It will not.
I am not made of those pieces scattered about the floor.
Slowly but surely grief has built me into its own image.
So who am I anymore?
Many days maneuvering through the two completely separate lives is enough to lose ones mind.
Honesty will set you free.
Fuck grief.
Fuck you.
Fuck me.
Fuck death.
Loving me in any capacity only brings the grim reaper to your front door.
Facts are facts.
Death is inevitable.
This time last year I was losing myself completely. In silence. It was a death sentence I put in place unknowingly. I didn’t know there was any other way. Kinda like with the 12 steps, I didn’t know there was growth to be had. Saying day after day this is it. Nothing more. Nothing less.
I pay no mind the vultures cawing up above. They have been circling for years and will continue to until my time is done.
But I am far from done.
Feel the floor.
Taste the oranges.
Trust your intuition.
Hi Jessica, I loved your poem. How true it is. I lost my husband of 36 years to pancreatic cancer. We were married for 30. Even though I was married and knew Carm longer than your marriage with Cam, it matters not. The loss of a person deeply loved is just that. It is going on 2.5 yrs. People tell me it will get better. I know it is much more complicated than that. I have been working on getting on with life. That is what it is now, work. Before with Carm, I was living life. I stay hopeful as my husband, being an optimist, would be. Thank you for your post. God Bless you!
Maria,
Oh how I relate to others interjection of you. So many times, especially in writing, I will get approached with love but still judgement. They don’t understand I am grieving openly and not going to change that. They don’t understand how 16 months later I still write about the loss of Dave like it were yesterday. They don’t understand how I still hurt at the loss of Cam almost five years ago. They can’t understand how I am still progressing in life and yet to them I am stuck in my grief. I will not say it gets better. It doesn’t from what I hear. I will say the more you hold your grief and allow it to be exactly as it wants the kinder I have been able to be with myself. I am so sorry for your loss. Thank you for your kind words ????