Thanksgiving

grief_processing1

Thanks for giving me grief.

when i call to wish them happiness
his voice greets me on the other end unexpectedly
a strong, healthy version of my deceased father on audio
I have to play it twice to believe he really isn’t under the same sky as I am

I am two beers in, popping the second klonopin through tears in the bathroom
to avoid an embarrassing scene of explanation
four years ago
they tell me
Move on, get over it, smile,
I pretend it doesnt hurt
But the tears stream through, and I unravel as quickly as a ball of yarn in the guest room.

The Holidays are especially difficult
I am a forest of nostalgia, attempting to set myself on fire
to be as barren as this pain
Still, not fully knowing how much pain can truly hurt you,
she asks me if it will always be like this
every holiday
as if grief were a water faucet we could turn off when it started leaking

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