The Swelling

September 1, 2023

I can feel it swelling.
The injury,
The wave.
The “it’s been another year”
Two years.

September 23rd is closing in.

Why are these milestones so hard?

Why do they feel like strong currents, that take his significance, our story, his life, its meaning, my permission to grieve… further and further out to sea?

Sure, there’s healing in distance,
In time.

But sometimes…
I want it all to still be on shore.

Still worthy of a meal being sent.
a card.
A life raft. Alleviation.

Things that extend permission to still be… Grieving.

So I wouldn’t feel so crazy that I still am.

In the beginning
The gifts
The messages
The words
The help

It’s as if it’s an echo to your pain, confirming that
Yes, you’re supposed to be..
Drowning.

Two years in and I know I’m expected to swim.
And I am.
I know there are new things to shed tears over 
And lives must go on.
And they have.
Can’t you see how they have?

As if I had any choice in the matter.

But.
This is my cross to bear.
My inescapable cross.
Yes, Jesus died and I know the cross will get set down.
Eventually.
At the finish line.
I’m thankful for that.
I meditate on that.
That is the only hope I cling to.

But I still live for now
In a world where there exists a law of gravity
with the cross on my back.
And the swell of injuries
And waves.

The unseen throb,
And invisible undercurrent.

You’re no match for 
Gravity or waves 
The tools in the hands of the maker.

No one ever comes to possess the virtue of valor
without having something to face 
That requires courage in conquering.

Gravity 
and
waves

I miss you.

I wouldn’t change this.
My soul has bowed to this will.

But that doesn’t change the swelling.