My hopes and visions
of our older selves
holding hands and walking side by side,
gentling into our coupled future,
were brutally severed.
We were suddenly cleaved apart
Where once we cleaved so close.

Can I really compare this loss,
as you suggest,
with yours?
Your tender son of son,
so wonderfully wrought and loved
and bravely fought for life
still short of one full year.

Our common ground is loss.
Yes, we grieve. We ache and moan
For what we knew was loan
But yearn for what we had.

We share emptiness.
Our tears are shed with memories
of joyfilled times
and yes, we knew
we could not hold
like photographic image
the essence of those moments
but
we want them
back
again.

Comparison is futile.
My pain is mine alone
and yours
you alone must walk your steps
of grieving sorrows.
And tomorrow will unfailing dawn,
and just as I can smell the blossom now,
three years gone,
may fragrance fill your life again,
dear friend of my heart.

Your son and you will live in hope.
And may you hold that space now so black and deep
in gentle hands
until your senses reawake
and numbness fades
and sweet magnolia bloom
will make you smile again.

With love.