When You Called March 3rd

You caught me

at my worst,

sobbing uncontrollably

about the unexpected —

the passing

of my wife

of 47 years.

And so, you held me

in the calm of

your voice,

soothing me,

extending compassion,

offering wisdom, and

a plan

to get me past the blame

and the shame

and the guilt.

(I felt so

responsible for

my red-haired angel’s death.)

You helped me

frame the blame, shame, guilt,

teaching me how to

capture my emotions

in words,

wrestling them to the page

to find the narrative of

burden

that I had spun

in my unrelenting grief. (Some-

one had to be responsible

for my wife’s

untimely death,

and so, I made

myself

the villain.)

When I shared

what I had written —

the letter addressed to

my deceased lover —

you listened and never

judged, sent

virtual hugs.

I’m better now

because of you.

I can taste

hope and

possibility. Grace,

how can I thank you?