Grief is an exquisite taunting monster.
With tears merging into a continual rivulet of mourning,
One day I will outrun you.
“Write, woman. And, don’t get fluffy – keep it down to three syllable words.” ~ **The Rack**
It’s been a month since I lost my beloved. An ugly four week splotch of grief, thrown against the canvas of my soul.
Fuck cancer. Fuck undetected cancer. Fuck undetected cancer so aggressive it steals life before it can be found out. Kiss my grieving
For ten years, for three thousand six hundred and fifty days (give or take a leap year or two), we were together.
Laughing together. God, shi had the best laugh, genuine and filled with all things jovial.
Learning together. My heart did a somersault when I learned she was attracted to femme lesbians. Hers did too when, despite my affinity for queered-up butch pronouns, shi learned that I was attracted to the woman she was and there was no need for stereotypical affectations.
Most of all, loving together. Always loving each other, when life was good and not so good. And, strange though it may be I still feel hir love.
I hope I always will.
Some say you lived a nice long life. I say it wasn’t nearly long enough. I wish, I wish, I wish, I wish…but some wishes will never come true.
I don’t see how memories will suffice but they are all I have now. Perhaps one day these tears I shed will sit down and regale the audience of my heart back into wholeness with bountiful recollections of you.
Rest in peace, sweetness.