A Poem for the Grieving

It's Not "Like" Anything

So I describe how I'm doing today

            In an e-mail

                        On Facebook

                                    On the phone

                                                Face to face

And every time my listener hears an additional sentence

            That I did not utter

                        At least I think I didn't

                                    It's hard to tell right now

                                                Anyway...

The sentence must go something like this:

            Please identify an experience in your life

                        That has some passing similarity to losing one's spouse

                                    Describe that experience in excruciating detail

                                                And then extract the nugget of advice

                                                            That I have been waiting my whole life to hear.

Did I really say that?  For the life of me I don't recall making such a request.

Losing Anne is NOT "like" anything else.

            It's not like having a very sick spouse recover.  You got him back.

            I'm happy for you and so envious that I want to scream.

            It's not like losing a parent--I've done that, and I can tell you it's different.

            There's a hole in one's heart, but the sense of incomplete was less for me.

            It's not like going through a divorce--I would do anything to get her back.

            I didn't choose to end our life together.

            It's not like losing a child--although now you're getting warm.

            I've watched that happen, and there are lots of similarities.

            It's not even like you losing your spouse

Although I will listen very closely to you.  But that was your spouse, not mine.

Don't make any big changes for a year or two or three, they say.

            That train has left the station, friends.

                        The biggest change has already happened

                                    And I don't like it.

Take time, take care, take it slow, take it easy...yes, yes, yes.

            Take a chill pill, would you?

There's a reason,

            There's a purpose.

                        There's a plan.

                                    There's a point.

                                                Yes...yes...yes.

Perhaps I should just carry my degrees in philosophy and theology with me at all times.

I don't need answers.  I need Anne.

I refuse to let this grief be "like" any other.

            She was UN-like any other.

By the way, I'm not quite so angry about this now.