Her last exhale—after twenty years of them—seemed
the easiest one, for her
Assuaging her, until the last; I'm now in need of some of that assuaging, for
me
My awareness of her absence echoes like a silent alarm from an unexpected
vacancy just within earshot (and, paradoxically, known-about for years)
I'm curiously-glad the ground is frozen; postponing digging the grave is a
whole huge, tiny grey blessing (for next year)
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