So the anger comes
mixed with sadness,
numbing out the tears.
Stay strong, you can do
this, don’t show the world
the bleeding wounds of grief.
Overwhelmed by stuff,
finding the perfect place
to donate or give his things.
As if he would care.
How do you honor what
he put his life energy into?
How could he leave me?
I loved him so much. But Death
takes no notice of such things.
This is the irrational time—
the feelings come, and I know
will go in their own time, but really
couldn’t they just leave now?