On March 26, Alex will have been dead 2 years already. It seems impossible that it’s been that long–yet in other ways, it feels like he’s been dead for much longer. I guess, in a way, he was dead before he died…alone and strung out. Some day I will be less sad. Today is not that day.
YOU’VE BEEN DEAD TWO YEARS
That means my Grief is a toddler
and is learning better words
than hungry cries from a cradle
to explain the way
I’m growing around the hole
without just filling it in.
My Grief is trying to find
the answer to the question:
when will the rubber band finally snap?
By pulling and pulling
on the place that gives in
to the worst of your memory.
Yes, you’ve been dead two years-
that means my Grief is growing up,
and soon, it will be able
to walk towards acceptance
on two steady little legs
without even holding my hand.
And maybe twenty years down the line,
we will sit down at a bar and I will buy it a beer,
and then I will tell Grief
about all the ways
it has changed my life, me,
this world gone mad with loss…
Song Choice: Grow Grow Grow by the Mountain Goats
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