There’s no coming back from that,
barring some apocalyptic event.
Dead is dead.
The thing that makes you,
You, vanishes, like smoke.
You are here.
Then you are not.
Those of us left behind struggle
to understand this concept.
We can’t understand
how we can see you,
touch you one moment and
the next, there is this great yawning maw
in your soul and
it’s eating your heart.
It’s eating holes in your mind and
all you can do is scream
until there is no voice left and then
it continues in your head
until you are sure that
you will run mad with grief.
We do run mad, in our own individual ways, and
some fall into a hole so deep the only light left is
through the hole in the lives of others.
The cyclic way we grieve,
the way we mourn makes little sense
to anyone outside of the circle.
one day those that do not understand, will.