GRIEF Poem: a strange thing, by Willow Nguyen

Death is a strange thing
It makes me feel like a little kid
Always asking when they’re coming home
Always looking at the places they’re supposed to be

Crying at unrelated things
The grief quietly ripping my heart out

I never realize in the moment
7 years later
I’ll start crying in a Costco
When I see a forklift
Thinking of that moment
The moment when I saw him carried out of the house
Brain dead but still breathing

The moment I saw my moms expression as she said my name
In a Walmart.
Always the same face each time
A mix of worry and anguish

The grief is loud at unexpected times
Like when I play my violin and think of her
every time I realize again and again that really happened
They all really died
But I only understand for a second
Like jamais vu
Telling me
We’ve been here
before
Again and again

Do we ever really learn
To process grief?

Will I ever stop gaslighting myself into
Thinking it’s ok?

Will I ever stop feeling like a sociopath
For not being able to cry?

Will I ever stop distracting myself like an immature man
Who can’t process a breakup?

Will I ever stop shoving it down
Until all I feel is the urge
To cry at anything

But

never

Know

Why