Phone call at work
Grandma is gone
Gathering around her cold waif of a body
On the sterile hospital bed
With aunts, mom and dad, sisters, niece and nephews, uncle and cousins
The assembled clan
Toasted her with tequila shots
Arriba
Abajo
Al centro
Y adentro
This is what grief looks like
My heart given over to her
Exuberant existence
A celebration of life well lived
Not a moment wasted on dead space
My body gives over to grief
Taking on a dreary exhaustion
Bed two days in my clothes
What was the weather?
Did I go to the bathroom?
I needed nourishment
Had no reason to eat anything nor
The strength to lift a fork
My daughter in the other room
On the phone with my mother
“She’s napping”
Closing my eyes
Kept me safe from
What the outside world wanted to
Infuse into my unwilling spirit
This is what grief looks like
Days I wandered aimlessly in my car
Not wishing to isolate myself in my house
Drove down a country road headed for the
Seqouians
The nudist colony in the beautiful Castro Valley hills
Considered becoming a member
Grandma would have approved
And possibly joined with me
She was comfortable in her own skin
This is what grief looks like
Attempting to go to work
Attempting to take one day off
Need another
Surprised at how my body has
Deceived me
Abandoned me
No energy
Listless
Washing machine fixed
A month of laundry
Forgotten
No will for clean jeans and underwear
My bed needs clean sheets
Fleas fester, Again
The sun gleaming down as
I attempt to hold my head up
Hiding my eyes
Sunlight warm
Yet, I am cold
Gathered enough energy to get an
Oil change with a free car wash
Can’t drive behind the hearse in a dirty car
This is what grief looks like
Anger arises
Unfair to all
Who have crossed my path this century
Mother
Sister
Ex-husband
Ex-husband
Ex-boyfriend
Nephew
Uncles
Cousins
Landlord,
His stepson
Therapist
Boss
My Russian Blue mix cat
Whose comforting coat was disappearing
This is what grief looks like
Food left to spoil
Couldn’t force myself to eat enough
In the fridge
Packed together
Pot stickers
Half a turkey sandwich
Taquitos
Onion rings
Three quarters of a pizza
Eggs, spoiled eggs
Ignored vegetables
No room for real food
Some how I had fresh milk
When did I buy it?
Outside the fridge
Three chicken drumsticks
Slice of lemon loaf
Tortilla chips
An aged banana
A rotten apple with past their prime tangelos in the fruit bowl
Do I have oatmeal?
NO
This is what grief looks like
The morning after my grandmother died in my fogshock
I sideswiped my housemate’s car when
I returned home for who knows what?
The day after her spectacular sendoff
I totaled Poppy Blue Jay,
the name my daughter gave her car
given over to me when she moved from Hawaii to Korea
There I sat on the side off the freeway
With traffic passing me on their way to who knows where?
I had left work early
In a puddle of tears
Sick with untreated bronchitis
Now I was stuck
Stuck trying to reach my insurance agent
Stuck in my grief
I feared for my safety
I wanted to get home
To be alone and protected in my grief
At least my car was clean
This is what grief looks like
Disillusionment of self
Morphed into an awareness awoken
Perceiving what I hadn’t noticed
Outside light
Filtering into the
Vietnamese Restaurant/ French Bakery’s bathroom
Bewildered to see rays
Streaming through the air vent
Above my head
The entrance door
With a clear glass mosaic window
Molded together with brass
Why hadn’t I noticed the brightness before in my
frequently visited surroundings?
This is what grief looks like
Couldn’t read
Couldn’t write
Couldn’t pray
Alighted darkness
A hollow void starving
Begging to be filled
How?
Shocked that green and red
still meant go and stop
Shocked that my TV characters were fine
without checking on them daily
Shocked that I couldn’t call friends
to share in my grief
Shocked that the sun
Rose each morning
To give me another day
Drowning in my grief
Light switch switches
Looking past Grief
But Grief is a sneaky Bastard
The trickster monkey on my back
The cry of the lone wolf on the distant lightless plane
Caught in the web of Anansi
Sorry guys I need more time to
Ruminate in my ennui of grief
