a private grief

This past week – in my dis-ease – I looked out the same window that Chris spent many a day gazing through, as his body broke down. I remembered his silence, his privacy. I converged with it a little further, as I too feared from within my body. And I too said nothing.

rock me mama

Each hand on the other elbow. Heavy cotton, the only thing holding her in. Enshrouding her. She watched them go.