From Love to Loved

I am haunted by the existence of the past tense
how the thoughts we share of each other can change from is to was.

In one swift moment, any of us can be in the moment of saying "I love you" and then, without even realizing the clock is ticking away your time, force you to say, "I loved you."

We move from making memories to simply remembering them, cherishing them, boxing them up afraid we'll forget them, pulling them up, begging for more and hoping the ones we have aren't ones we wish we could undo.
In the past three months I have cried as two women changed from women I know to women I have known.
A hammer to the heart.
There it is.
They are no longer here and somehow the world is still allowed to turn.

I replay the weekend and my heart can't catch up with my head.

Love is an act we can all relate to: butterflies, obsession, excitement.
Sadness, Anger, Frustration all tied by the same ability to understand what they look like
but grief?
No.
Grief will strip you down and even take your shoes so when you try to run, you feel every awkward step as you break down and are exposed.
None of us process it the same & the spectrum is shocking.

How raw do we become?
How deeply to we unravel?
How together do we remain?

Am I allowed to hurt this badly?
Am I close enough to the loss to cry if they are not?
Why are they laughing & smiling?

I want to be alone.
They are afraid to be.
I lose myself in my head.
They lose themselves in a glass hoping each sip numbs this...
this reality
for just a little bit longer.

The chaos swirls and those still here are forced to admit
it's over now.
But we dance, eat, breathe, and move in the shell of where she lived
and it feels wrong.
It feels WRONG.
She died here.
Everywhere are stitches of her love sewn into the walls and the post it notes stuck around the walls because there was time...
they thought.

We live here.
She lived here.
We are waiting to rise.
She has risen.

Grief.
I love(d) her.