95 days

i feel like

i have not seen you

in forever,

or at least a lifetime,

or at least a year.

it has been exactly

95 days.

is  that  all?

how long does grief last?

100 days?



“it gets better.”

is the unsolicited advice


what exactly is the “it?”

that gets better?

instead of balm,

the words are laced with salt

poured into my tender,



what is the name of the thorn?

is it the lack of hope?


i hope for a blessed reunion.

is it unspoken words?


i said my peace.

is it the unknown?


i believe.

the ache is in the parting,

separation is the dagger.

so tell me,

how does that get better

with more time?

can time stitch up

the grand canyon?

it gets better.

it gets better.

it gets better.


on day 100

or 200,

or 365,

 i may nod my head

in acquiescence.

after the senses lose their memory.

the intensity lessens.

laughter is owned again.

smiles creep in as before.

when the sun rises.

but for tonight,

on day 95,

the separation

 is not better.


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2 thoughts on “95 days

  1. The thing people never tell you is that it gets harder before “it gets better.”

    Eventually you learn to cope, you get used to the hole as well as you can. But although it does get better, the grief never goes away – which is as it should be for those of us who had such wonderful mothers.

  2. Thank you. I don’t know why the well-intentioned sentiment gets to me. It’s something I’d say to someone. I appreciate (as always) your words of wisdom.

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