Life never promised clean closures and tidy –

like perfect Christmas bows – 

good-byes.

Grief is a fickle, unfathomable guest who

tip-toes away in the night

only to

cunningly

set my feet,

like those of a wobbly fawn,

on the slickest of

ice.

Flailing, grasping –

the impending impact with sorrow wounds

mightily

Yet by its nature

remains unseen

unnoticed

by those around.

No wise words find their way to me now….

Rhythmic crunching of salt-sprinkled chips

overrule a sensible gym workout,

as I sit in silent solitude

listening intently for the indelible echoes of your

memorable laugh.

Time stands still in the daily

moments

of the magnificent and the mundane

We miss you terribly, Chris –

and wonder when we truly first

lost you. 

 

Rest in Peace, Chris. You will always be in our hearts.

11/18/56 – 12/12/11