Loss

by by Beth Lorber, Mother

I am here among friends, smiling at their humor
And making plans for tomorrow.
But there is another person, lying curled in the corner,
Crying out in unbelievable pain.
That, too, is me.

I am doing my household chores,
And the routine is familiar and satisfying,
A gesture toward a need for living.
But there is another person, lying in bed,
Willing her mind a blank, not wanting to think or be.
That, too, is me.

I look at a lovely Spring day,
A view of a world of growth and change,
A world only God could make.
But that other person stares through tears
With unseeing eyes, knowing there is no God.
That, too, is me.

I am surrounded by my family,
A gathering of love and joy and tenderness,
Of cherished moments and warm hugs.
But another person is there, whose arms and heart
Ache for one she can never hold and comfort.
That, too, is me.

Very slowly ... I am learning there is room
For joy and fun and cherished moments with friends,
In this hurry-up world, with no place for patience
For grieving--there may always be two of me.
And I am doing the best I can for both.
That, too, is me.