GRIEF Poem: One Week in January, by Carrie Gar

Tuesday, January 17th
I was worried about what to make for lunch.
She’s a picky eater and I can’t buy groceries until Friday. It’s only Tuesday.
(They were worried you weren’t getting enough oxygen)
I went to work, feeling a restlessness.
(You went to sleep. Did you feel scared?)
I was home by four pm.
I started homework and thought about dinner.
(You slipped into a coma. What did you think about before that?)
I went to bed that evening, you were in the back of my mind.
(Rich was there. Your family was there. You were already gone.)

Wednesday, January 18th
It’s quiet today. There’s a melancholy peace. Tomorrow, the 19th, is my parents’ anniversary. And I am
thinking of you.
I felt it before I knew for sure. I felt you were gone. I felt scared and panicked at what was to come.
(January 18th you took your last breath. They “pulled the plug.”)
The world lost a humble and loving and caring man, a veteran, a coworker, brother, friend.
But it still kept spinning. How could it? How dare it.
I hold on to the truth that heaven rejoiced and you were healed and whole and happy.
(Garret, Garret, Garret… can you hear me say your name?)

Thursday, January 19th
“Hi, can you give me a call?” was Rich’s message.
“Is it Garret?” I asked, but I knew.
(“It’s not good news” he said. It was not good news.)
I didn’t call him.
I couldn’t.

Friday, January 20th
“Call me this morning.” It was a Friday morning.
I called him. And I listened to everything that happened to you since the previous August. And I cried.
Then I hung up and I sobbed.
(You were being fitted for your wings, asking question after question about life, I am sure.)

Saturday, January 21st
I brought my daughter to TJ Maxx. It was morning. I walked around, trying to be ok but I wasn’t ok.
The tears came back in the Kitchen section and they didn’t stop until later that night and that’s because I
fell asleep. They came back when I woke up and stayed for five days.
(Garret, Garret, Garret. Did you hear me whisper your name? Do you see me mourn?)
I didn’t go to your funeral. I couldn’t.
Rich said it was a beautiful service. You deserved a beautiful service.
(You were there. They saw you, he said.)

Wednesday, January 17th
One year later.
I still feel the punch in my gut. I still feel the lump in my throat.
I still say your name three times whenever I think of you. And I think of you all throughout the week.
I will think about you forever, while still worrying about what to pack for lunch and what to make for
dinner, while the world still carries on without you as it should.
How dare it