A Blink Of A Year

by arianne

I woke today having just blinked.

In shock, is what this is.
How can it be one year?

Did you know one year makes the loss grow larger?
Healing doesn’t go by logic or reason.
Any more than the grief itself does.

We family pray and hope, and do not despair.
But the sad and the miss and the longing. They always remain.
Brothers miss their sister.
A father needs his only daughter.
And I, the daughterless mother, if only for this moment in eternity, see the insides of the loss cavern and wonder how they grew bigger.
Wasn’t healing – and time – supposed to make the loss more easily lived?
I feel the emptiness of that cavern mock me and echo…as if it might just be bottomless.

It never stops tempting me to find out.
Only the whisper of His Spirit brings truth to my ears.
There’s no darkness that can swallow me now.

Grief is this beast that lives outside you, almost.

It comes along and rolls you without consent.
You have no choice.
Only options become rolling with it,
or denying it’s happening.
Both leave you upside down.

The rolling began this morning.
The waves still hit.  Not stopping, they only grow stronger.
Crueler, it seems.

Quickly I paralyze.
There’s no reasoning with this grief-beast. This thing.
Physically painful, a fragile heart tries to filter the loss today means.
It goes wanting.
It can’t be done.
There are no answers beyond the One.


I woke up today not knowing how I’d feel.

I have dreaded this week for many weeks.
Today is the day, one year ago, our daughter Mabel Love
died in the womb at 18 weeks along.
Saturday is the one year mark of the day she was born, still.
My soul still wears her ashes, however healed.


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