grief isn't easy.
by now, I know her well.
but each time she visits,
she grabs me by the throat anew,
and squeezes.

it's been four years now.
since that fateful morning
when I woke up to that phone call
and before my aunt said a word
it was simple. I knew.

it's not just you, now.
Rosemary is with you.
her funeral is two days before
the day yours was.
isn't that odd?

I hope, at the gates, if there are any,
you were waiting there.
I hope you took her hand
(I hope the shaking stopped)
and guided her
to where she needed to be.