Grief

This thing, this blackness we call grief,
menacing as the dark storm cloud
that moves in silent threat,
Never knowing at what moment
It will strike and with what intensity.

Grief is no respecter of status or person,
age or circumstance.
It consistently hovers, and we, the bereaved
seek shelter from its agonizing attacks
on our bruised and battered hearts.

We seek a shelter that is not to be found
Old friends forsake us, new acquaintances are wary,
Happiness eludes us and peace is non-existent
Normal is a foreign idea

Our daily struggle is so intense that we are
often a weak and weary adversary for this grief

All encompassing and ever present,
This grief drains our deepest emotions.

Will we, can we ever pass through this pain,
this sadness, this grief?

What waits for us when at last we find that
tiny opening that allows us to enter a
new world where grief remains only as
an infrequent intrusion?

Surely someday, we will find that time when
Memories, beautiful, warm and comforting
will embrace us. . .

Bittersweet, perhaps, but none the less
These precious memories of our dear children
will be the cornerstones upon which we will build
a new normal in our forever changed lives.

In memory of my daughter, Abby Ellen D’Andrea
6-13-1978 - 12-4-2004
Denice D’Andrea