Today is the hardest day of my year. The anniversary of my Xavier’s death. I have not done anything in particular to mark the occasion. But I feel sluggish and everything is weighted with difficulty. I sat in the sun with a dear friend. She was foggy with a bad cold, and I was foggy with grief. Just sitting was nice. Soaking up the sunshine that makes me think of my son.

I feel badly that I haven’t staged any grand gestures in his name. That there is only this heavy feeling. And so I wrote this poem. About how I feel on his anniversary. My every day is distanced from grief now. Most days would not guess me to be a parent of a child who died. But if you met me on the street today, you might guess something was wrong. I am not myself today. But, in other ways, I am my true self today.

Forgive Me

Forgive me if I’m not myself today,
I don’t mean to be unpleasant,
Forgive me if I seem far away,
I’m not all together present.

Forgive me if I’m not myself today,
If my smile and eyes seemed pained,
If I don’t know what to say,
and our conversation’s strained.

Forgive me if I’m not myself today,
if I’m hesitant to smile,
It means a great deal that you stay,
And just sit with me for a while.

Forgive me if I’m not myself today,
if I seem a little slow or dim,
most times I keep the grief at bay,
but today belongs to him.

Forgive me if I’m not myself today,
You know it’s not an easy one,
Three years ago, to the day,
is when last I held my son.

****