Grief Poem
By S T Whitelaw
*TW: death, grief, substance abuse*
Grief and I are old bedfellows.
He has lain with me night after night
and held me while I cried.
Unlike some bedfellows, Grief often stays the night.
He does not, as some lovers do,
quietly pick his trousers from the floor
and slip out my front door.
No, Grief stays with me through the dawn –
sometimes longer.
Sometimes Grief and I have lain in bed
all day and never moved an inch.
Grief has sat by my side in church halls
and car rides.
Sometimes Grief catches me by surprise.
He taps my shoulder on a busy street
other days, he just passes me by.
Then there are times
when I simply find him at the end
of a film or a good book.
Grief is a polyamorist.
He has other lovers – I’m well aware.
But Grief is a lover I’m happy to share.
There were plenty before me
and doubtless after I’m gone
Grief will find company among my loved ones
who’ll feed him that classic line:
‘She’d have wanted you to move on’.
Grief and I tried long-distance –
it didn’t work out.
He’d call me up out of the blue
and leave me so confused
so Grief moved.
Grief and I went on a break –
that didn’t work out either.
It was my idea.
I said I needed space.
So I left his messages on read
and placed other things in his stead
(sex, drugs, alcohol),
but when 1 am rolled around
and the chemicals were out my head,
guess who ended up back in my bed?
There was also a time
when I tried to deny
there even was a Grief and I.
In the bar, I’d dip my head
and avoid his eye.
And if anyone asked
I would Deny! Deny! Deny!
But my relationship with Grief
is no longer one I wish to hide.
Now, there are those who will say
‘Grief is up to no good.’
But they don’t know Grief like I do,
He’s just like sooo misunderstood!
Grief and I have been together for eight years now.
That’s longer than most relationships I know,
longer than some marriages.
Grief and I know each other inside out.
And of course there are those
who will claim Grief began chasing me too soon.
And I suppose that’s true.
But Grief has seen me through from fourteen to twenty-two
and doubtless there are more years due.
Grief has grown with me,
shown me parts of myself I never knew.
Grief never forgets to bring me flowers.
Grief has brought warm soups and lasagnes to my door.
Grief has given me stupid jokes
and introduced me to mutual friends.
Grief will always find new ways to surprise me.
Grief inspires me.
But most importantly,
Grief reminds me that I am alive.
That one day I will die.
But above all else,
Grief never fails to show me
that I am loved,
that I was loved,
that I love.