Love for Colin

My cousin Colin just died of an enlarged heart.  Colin was healthy, 25.

Remembrance

Colin, as I mourn your death
(which feels unthinkable, 
unreasonable, unfair), 
I've thought of what it has meant
to have you there. Here.

Colin, your wit! 
You're so funny! 
You were it! 

Colin, you still glow, 
a man I'm proud to know (or have known) 
yet you'll always be my own sweet cousin. 
Colin, voice of reason--

sensible, kind, 
gentle, silly, strong, 
constant peace of mind, 
letting us know we belong. 
You helped us to love each other.

I wanted my future children to know you, 
model after you, delight in you, 
your silliness, 
your willingness to joke and love. 

I can still feel your kindness, 
I still hold your kindness, or it holds me, 
or it's a pair of gloves--
your compassion some gloves I'll wear
so all my actions have your thoughtfulness
and virtue and kindness, 
so through my actions I can remember you, 
carry your legacy.

Your laugh! I have to bring it back to your joy! That smile!

Colin, these words are insufficient, 
but what we have is being together, 
being there for each other. 
We each have our memories of you, 
stories of your joy, your optimism, 
your moral courage, 
your concern for others. 

Thank you. I miss you. I love you.

Grief

Grief hurts--clenched up stomach,
heart heavy and dropping into the ribs,
head tense, out of breath, confused.

We only get so much of each other.
I try to find my center,
focus on principles.

And then it's
weeping, salad,
ice cream, alienation
spacing out
trying not to
sink into darkness
I'm grasping.

I know the cold and dark and painful;
can't always look away
but see too the lighthouse,
sweeping around beyond itself.

In moments alone,
questions creep up;
memories, regrets creep up;
bewilderment up.

Fleeting, briefly:
anger and apathy,
the blankness
striking,
the intensity of sorrow
unexpected, crashing in--
gripping anguish--crashing on--

I just go back to the meditations,
try to hold onto compassion,
what it means to be like water.