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Your death goes with me wherever I go.

I find grief in surprising places –

shoved in my pocket

like a forgotten five-dollar bill in last winter’s jacket;

or at the back of the closet,

buried under piles of abandoned shoes and clothing.

Discovering this hidden grief

brings not the delight of unearthing a treasure….

but it is, nonetheless,

a gift.

A gift that helps me

wring out my heart once more –

and relive the pain,

the questions,

the unknown.

I am working through this grief

like a patchwork quilt.

Each scrap or remnant I find

gets washed by tears,

dried in the sun,

and then mended and sewn together –

to make a larger piece

to add to a still larger piece.

The threads I use to sew my grief patches

come from the present –

from living my life

each moment –

fleeting moments like

seeing the sunrise,

a hug from my children,

a certain verse in a song on the radio.

Now my life,

shattered by your death,

has come down to this:

finding enough


every day

for the mending.



Copyright ©2010 Karen Wyatt, MD

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