Not about the month, but rather
A state of mind that comes with living
When you sense the dull pain of loss,
The ache for absent friends.
He was supposed to be there, not I for him,
The day they’d put me to rest.
The one who’d have praised my name
The one who knew the good stories.
She had become a rock to me,
Oh, the festive dinners with elegant conversation,
And her vastly broad culture I so envied,
Withdrawn suddenly to deal in secret with her own last days.
His Facebook Likes were always I Love,
Dependable and supportive, and then gone.
I knew his real name from countless messages,
And then, just like that, he needed to go away.
A store that held within it memories
Of purchases made with great expectations
Of trips to New York and it’s harsh winter cold
I suddenly discovered was gone, unannounced and empty.
I can deal with loss, with Death,
When it’s truly timely and welcomed,
But the ache of absence, with no formal departure,
Seems to leave my poor soul with no one to hear my sigh.