A Gathering

We gather
Young and old, tall and short, male and female,
Mothers, fathers, children, grandparents, friends
Family.

All here in common grief.
None of us deserve to be here.

The words wash over me
But I hear little.
In colour I see roses, butterflies
I feel sprinkles of rain
The names, so many names.
I am grey. And numb.

I see tears, so many tears,
Hidden behind glasses,
Cried into shoulders,
Silent tears, quiet sobs,
Bodies shaking with insurmountable grief.

We step forward
With equal measures of love and dread.
And I hold the memory of you in my hand
For just a moment
Before the breeze carries you away.

We remember.
And then it ends.
There is so much more to say.
And yet so much unwritten
In this short book of life.

I wrote these words moments after attending the hospital memorial service for our son born at 16 weeks gestation.


With tears of love, Christie x

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