I wrote this just a month after my dad died. He was my best friend and housemate. In two days it will be a year since his passing. I am sitting with my grief this week, intentionally feeling it. Being with it, my memories, my sadness and my smiles. He read all of my Stacks. He listened to all of my songs. He got me and I know how lucky I am to write that, to know it in my heart. I miss you, me Da.

Today, the weight of grief is muddy, cloudy and wet

It feels like an extra organ in my chest, 

closer to my solar plexus

It comes up to my eyes in sobs and cries then

Goes back down to settle in for the night

It shifts my center of gravity and catches me off guard

I know it is there because he is not here

Even though I truly believe he isn’t ever far

From my heart, closer to me than the stars

Today the weight of grief is sticky and makes me want to trip

I bring my gaze to the floor because I am sure 

I do not want to fall into the abyss 

the black hole of all of this

the place where grief lives

clouding my senses until I can feel it

Today grief feels like a runaway train

Barreling down the hillside threatening the terrain

The manicured lawns screeching in pain

Each blade of grass that thought it was safe

Stands alone now without a smile across its face

Orphaned, it knows of loss and love’s heartache

I am my solar plexus and the stars and the abyss

I am the blade of grass, I am all of this