What Jake Taught Me

This is me grieving:

Screaming for Jake.
Falling to the floor.
Wanting not to get up until he comes back.

Getting up to love my daughters.
Wishing for them not to suffer.
Knowing they do.
Being still.
Holding them.

Planning lunch with a friend.
Realizing this would be my first such walk in the neighbourhood without Jake.
Cancelling.
Staying home.
Crying more.

Noticing how many people process grief by trying to understand.
For me surrender is all there is.
Jake taught me that
in the way he lived
and the way he died.


Shovelling snow.
Discussing with the snowflakes how I miss Jake.
Knowing that my daughters feel Jake in the snowflakes too.
They fall for him.
He is more than a million snowflakes now.


Walking around the house all day talking to Jake.
Begging him to come back.
Reaching for his boundless warmth.

Telling myself warmth extends beyond physical body.
Struggling to feel him still.
Asking him to send me a sign.

The only voice I hear says,
"Be present."

I am present
and I hurt like hell.