Poem # 3

         

                                                     Your Precious life

is gone,

some

by your own

hand.

Why?

I do not understand.

I am humbled

by

my own

limitations

that

I

could not

help you want

to live.

I am defeated

by

my own

pain, &

still

I

do not accept

what you said

about me.

The journey back is always about relationships, and the conflict and disappointments inherent in a million choices along the way. Because of the way Sharon died, a drug overdose, the shame and remorse I felt were sometimes debilitating. It was never clear whether she died on purpose or not. If she did it intentionally, that was one grief; if it was an accident that meant an entirely different type of grief. Sharon had come to me a few months before and told me that she was struggling with PCP and alcohol. She and I were in counseling together at the time of her death, so perhaps that would have meant we were succeeding. The confusion made my guilt especially persistent and difficult. I felt constantly tortured that I had failed to do something to help her choose to live.

Poem # 19

Her death is

no

guarantee,

no insurance,

that I

will

not

lose again.

There is no

way

to

protect myself

from

further loss.

That is deeply

frightening.

What do

I

do with

that?

Well,

I guess

I

notice

how precious

today is

&

how deeply

I love you.