Not “over it.”
Past the designated year.
I’m learning to live with “it.”
If by healed you mean finished and forgotten,
I’m not that.
Not healed, but healing.
to live with joy, passion and light.
Despite the obvious risk.
To laugh out loud
Even if that offends as well.
To be faithful notwithstanding
All of it.
It’s not a bad thing, you know.
To love someone so completely
That he becomes a part of me
like a dialect.
That I laugh at what he would have found amusing,
That I hear his voice, even now heeding his advice,
That I see his children through his eyes,
That I call his family mine.
That I wear him like a favorite sweater.
That I remain crippled by his wounds.
This love – and this loss – shape me
Into who I am,
Inseparable from who he was. And is.
It’s not a bad thing,
To let my heart open and stretch,
Because love is not static.
Love doesn’t end.
He is the part of me that I gave over to love,
And his love granted me
my whole self.
I will not delete our story
to suit your (in)sensitivity.
Love brought me here.
I do not flinch
As I speak his name
With pain and beauty and tears and truth and laughter and hope
Wishing you light and strength on your healing path. And love.