This Peculiar Sadness

Sometimes I tell myself
She'd like that
And I set it aside

It sits there
For awhile
Until I'm reminded
That it no longer matters
What she likes

And then I put it back
It goes back to its place

But I'm changed
Impacted, by that moment
That moment of forgetting

I find that I'm jealous of objects
I find myself angry at them
For reminding me of her
For changing me
While they remain unchanged

I'm mad that they get to go back to their place
Where they belong

I'm not sure where I belong anymore

The world has shifted
And now every seat is a little smaller
Every room has a little less space in it
Each umbrella seems to let by
A little more rain

I've never reached this point of sadness before
This particular instance
Of grieving

I know the steps
Anger
Denial
Something
Something
Acceptance

I remember accepting
And then this came along

A sort of...epilogue

To inform me
That this sadness
This peculiar sadness
May be
Never ending

And it concerns me, obviously
It...

Well, to be truthful
It frightens me

That I may never go past it

That I may continue to be envious
Of books and photographs

Jokes
And people who can tell them

Children
I find myself angry at children
For being so...

Just for being children, I suppose

They don't tell you
That envy may come after acceptance
And that after that
There's something else

Something you can't quite...

It's peculiar

It's very peculiar

This sadness

It reminds me of the beginning
Of when this all happened
When I got the phone call
Telling me she...

I didn't know it would be cyclical

I thought I would
Check off each stage of grief
And then continue on
Until finally--healing

Healed

I didn't know the first part
Would come around again
Stronger than before

And knock the wind out of me
Again and again

Strange how strong it can be
Mourning

We talk about it like it's passive
Like it's this weak thing
That we must simply overcome
That we can overcome
That can be beat

We don't talk about it like it's strong
But it is

It's very, very strong

Sometimes I find myself
Sitting in a chair
Feeling like I'm looking at it

Like I'm looking right at it
This monster in my garden

In my house

In my bedroom

And I think to myself

Isn't it peculiar?

Isn't it?

This thing

This thing I can't seem
To rid myself of

This thing that's caused my plants to die
And my bed to go unmade
And my dishes to go undone
And my life to crack and splinter

And even in that moment
Even then

All I can do
Is sit
And hope
That maybe

It will go away
On its own