Grief
Physically invisible
It doesn’t knock to be invited in
It’s felt, before the door has opened
The curtains bellow from the volume
Circling around
Gathering in strength
Some days your legs give way
An ebb and flow a dance of
Sorrow and of pain
It invades your personal autonomy
Stretching the silence into hidden tears
This before the need arises
Not knowing when the knock will be heard
So we bide the time
Wait and hope and see
Preparing ourselves to cope, to deal
The best way that we can
Until the real dance begins
Ramblings From A Mum 
The longest, hardest wait. Hang tough, J.
I’m trying R, thank you.
Welcome 🙂
It’s the cruellest sort of waiting, Jenny, wanting pain to end, not wanting to lose them. Hugs and prayers.x
Thank you darling. He just had to battle bronchitis with the inability due to his MSA to cough, he had a rough few days. xx
Hang on in, Jen.x
I can feel your heart in your words. Such a difficult time.
Thank you so much Jodi xx
Not 20 minutes ago someone told me about “anticiaptory grief”. This post sounds like how it would feel.
I was hoping to relay that. Thank you C xx
Oh that pain of waiting for the grief to come is almost worse… like grief will come as a relief … I do understand this..
Thank you Bjorn, I know you do.
like being in limbo, the most uncomfortable place to be. no matter how prepared we are, when the moment arises, we are swept off our feet. hugs –
I am in limbo, pop just got over bronchitis, he’s still ha going in there. Hugs back thank you Beth xx
Prayers
Thank you darling xx
You take care, J
I will, I’m pretty much stay in auto drive xx
Hugs to you, sweetie. I understand the place you’re in right now.💕
Thank you darling and hugs back xx
Thinking of you xx
Thank you sweetheart xx
Such a tough time, Jen. Hugs, my darling xxxx
A rollercoaster. Bronchitis just in end stages. Many hours spent with them. Hugs back darling, thank you xx
I think it is very numbing. I remember sitting all curled up outside on the front steps, alone, when my Grandfather was passing on and I just felt anaesthetised. My mother and her mother were so stricken themselves that they had no time for me nor did they know how much it hurt me too. When my Grandmother passed away, I was in shock for a year. I still cry when I think about them and it has been many years. May you be encircled with warmth and comfort, Jen.
My heart goes out to you, you have described the feeling so well in being anaesthetised. Tears are the words your heart can’t speak. Hugs my darling and thank you for sharing. ❤️
Just was stopping by to hope everyone is better and comfortable for a Happy Mother’s Day, dear. I have been told by 3 “best” friends, better to have them here than gone. They know, having lost both parents. Two whose Mom’s passed in their 40’s.
Sorry to hear of your Dad’s congestion and bronchitis. Hard to breathe, not knowing how to cough and bewildered, I am sure.
Hold on tight to those who support you, daughters and Mr.S. have a lovely Mother’s Day. Your poem made me cry. . . ❤
Hello darling, sorry I gave you tears, thank you. Sorry for the loss of your friends mums. 😥 Gone too soon. Pops congestion is better, I can only hope today he’s having a good day and mum as the whole family meet for brunch at daughter B’s. Hugs and love to you ❤️
Just came back to see if any new posts or news. Jen, I try to think of ways to help out from afar, but guess there are mainly empty wishes and hollow words. . . sending you hugs, dear. Take care and wish things could be different. ❤