Thank you, Linda at A Word Edgewise for hosting Poetry Friday this week.
I learned of the passing of my former husband back in June. Grief grabs you in ways that I can’t explain. I wasn’t prepared for how this news would affect me as we’d not seen each other in twenty-five plus years. I shared my raw thoughts in this SOL17 post (which I later found out was the same day he was laid to rest). His passing has reconnected me with some important people of my past and that’s a good thing.
Today would have been his sixty-ninth birthday. It’s funny how some dates stay with you no matter what. My friend, Kelly, calls them griefaversaries. For me writing is my way to process the sadness and loss.
I
place
flowers
on your grave
today’s your birthday
gone from this world, your soul at peace
© 2017, jone rush macculloch
Jone Rush MacCulloch 
I’m glad you took the time to recognize the change in your world. He is a part of your life’s map.
Griefaversaries is a good word. Thank you for sharing.
Thanks for sharing your journey with us, Jone. A word that comes to me describing your reaction to your grief is “blindsided.” Your fibonacci memorial poem is comforting to me, the reader, as I’m sure it comforted you to write it.
Yes, blindsided is a word that fits my experience perfect. Thank you.
I went to read your other post. Thank you for sharing it. It’s beautiful. Ruth
Thanks.
Life brings us so many losses. I’m sorry about this one, and I’m glad you can process with writing. Ruth, thereisnosuchthingasagodforsakentown.blogspot.com
Grief is surprising and unexpected in so many ways. Thank you for sharing the new word griefaversaries–it captures so much. Your poem is a touching tribute.
Thank you.
Thanks for the new word. I let my mom’s birthday slip by this year, but in the future, I’d like to make it a day of remembrance. My parents’ anniversary is coming up. I’ll make some space in my day to thank the universe they found each other and made my brother and me!
Lovely tribute, Jone. Hugs to you. I’m glad you reconnected with important people. That is a solace. We love people who touch our lives, even if we have to set them (or ourselves) free. Even if pain makes the love feel like something else, I think it’s still love. I have my griefaversaries, too. Great term. A snigglet of power. I don’t know if you’ll stop by my site, but it you do, I’ve made a public apology for missing the deadline to get you a postcard. You are not forgotten, but I didn’t do a good job of writing the deadlines anywhere useful. Something is on its way now, though.
Thank you. And I owe you the apology back. Silly me, your poem is in the car waiting to be mailed.
No rush. We are consumed by big, thorny issues on my end. Emergency trips, health issues, falls on bikes and submission deadlines fraught with nervous possibility.
Hope you are okay. Yikes. In the mail…around Monday.
Not the best summer ever, but lots of silver linings. XOXO
You’ve written a lovely remembrance of your former husband, Jone. No matter how long, it is true that connections in our lives stay.
Yes, those connections are part of my body memory. Thank you for your kind words.
Jone, this is a touching piece. I must remember the term griefaversaries for my mother’s birthday is coming up and I like to save that day as a day of remembrance.
Thank you. I am thankful for my friend giving me that word.