A little while ago, she was sitting here
Right next to me, looking at her phone,
Keeping me apprised, what’s going on –
I roll my eyes, shake my head –
Our parents and their new obsession.
Next memory was of her unable to breathe
Unkempt and weak, being coaxed to eat
Yet she wakes up at midnight, my time
Turns on her phone, wishes me
My beloved’s birthday, she says
Makes sure the world knows –
And her shy little girl is celebrated.
All while she can barely breathe.
The rest of the days are a blur –
Unnecessary to anyone who is not us.
She is not here anymore –
Left against her will –
But the love stayed, like the red phone
That she left behind –
And as grief in us, who love her still.

P.S. Memory is a weird, weird thing.

N.B. Grief is a testament to having loved someone completely and in its entirety. Time doesn’t really “heal” but it does hide the wounds. Love, G.