The man who handed me my coffee said 'it was all going to get better' as I cried in a Tim Horton's
The concepts of time and mortality have always been something that I struggle with.
Written after a series of well-timed events (and Mary Lambert), this poem is my acknowledgment that life is unpredictable, temporary, horrific and beautiful all at the same time; but mostly it’s my way of understanding that life will always go on even when it feels impossible.
I spent the better half of last summer reflecting on time-passed and those sweet full circle moments in life that have made it all bearable.
The end of last August marked what would have been my grandfather’s eighty-third birthday and it was overwhelming (in a surprisingly not-horrible way) to say the least.
On the morning of his birthday, my sister, grandmother and I took flowers to the cemetery. After being cooped up in the house due to quarantine regulations, being there brought up a lot of memories that I don’t often give myself time to reminisce on. Which includes these two August moments:
My sister insisted this summer that we get a bunny, which happened to be my grandfather's nickname for me. (I can go on and on about the symbolism of bunnies and how they’ve shown up in the past three years, but I won’t.)
I came home the day before what would have been his birthday to find a bouquet of purple (his favourite colour) roses in my kitchen and a loving note from my long-time best friend.
I’m not sure whether or not I believe coincidences are anything more than just coincidences, but sometimes it’s nice to pretend they could be.
The past three years have consisted of a lot of highs and lows. Learning to live after a loss has been a difficult hurdle for me and I have done more than my fair share of crying (most frequently in coffee shops and grocery stores).
Accepting that crying is a part of healing and nothing to be ashamed of was a huge milestone of mine. Giving myself a space to cry has allowed me to release unwanted stress before I sit and process my feelings. Writing through those moments is the easiest way for me to understand my thoughts. So here’s a list poem of some things that have made me cry these past few months.
Published in Autumn twenty-twenty with Sunday Morning Rivers
