GRIEF Poem: Anniversary of Your Death, by Paige Johns

The deaths felt so long ago,
and still, just yesterday.
And I know it lurks
around the next corner.

I look around at us — left behind —
carrying sorrow,
bags of memories,
untouched potential you had.

The potential you poured into us,
like warmth feeding wild things.
The possibility of happiness, adventures, laughter,
as if you wouldn’t wish those upon us still.

We grieve you, as we always will.
It’s harder to live for the light you left behind
than to mourn its absence.

We attempt vigils, parties, prayers —
things that don’t quite and never will fill
what you left.

Still, together,
a mass of mourning
is better than the loneliness of grief.

I keep the other livings in my mind
as much as the memories passed.
I tell them I’m thinking of them.
I write for them.
I believe some of them do the same.

And though I cannot end our pain,
Nor unpack our animosity from what has passed,
I can bring flowers to your grave.
I can light candles by your ashes.
I can check in on your loved ones.
And in those small, flickering acts,
we promise each other
to carry what you gave us
as far as we can.