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| After the Storm - Early Morning of December 30, 2016 |
It’s Another New Year,
Dear Barry
The year is winding down,
with a fresh one in the wings,
and I deeply miss you.
This holiday is the one that,
for me,
is a container for grief.
I think it’s the memories of
all those New Year’s Eves
we spent together.
No matter where we were
or what we were doing,
your arm was always
around my shoulders
and you gave me a gentle
peck on the cheek
right at midnight.
I cherish memories such as those.
They buoy and sustain me,
but they also make me sad
as one year moves into the next.
An interesting mix
of happiness and sorrow
that can be perplexing
and wonderful at the
very same time.
This is the fifteenth time that
I’ve forged into a new year
on my own,
without that soft-hearted kiss.
I’m content and grateful,
healing and strong.
I simply miss
the tender, good-natured ways
you expressed love.
It’s another new year,
dear Barry.
I just miss you.
Dear Barry
The year is winding down,
with a fresh one in the wings,
and I deeply miss you.
This holiday is the one that,
for me,
is a container for grief.
I think it’s the memories of
all those New Year’s Eves
we spent together.
No matter where we were
or what we were doing,
your arm was always
around my shoulders
and you gave me a gentle
peck on the cheek
right at midnight.
I cherish memories such as those.
They buoy and sustain me,
but they also make me sad
as one year moves into the next.
An interesting mix
of happiness and sorrow
that can be perplexing
and wonderful at the
very same time.
This is the fifteenth time that
I’ve forged into a new year
on my own,
without that soft-hearted kiss.
I’m content and grateful,
healing and strong.
I simply miss
the tender, good-natured ways
you expressed love.
It’s another new year,
dear Barry.
I just miss you.
Love, Sarah
December 30, 2016
