NaPoWriMo 28/30 Grief Encounter

Grief Encounter

Just when you think the waters are safe,

that there’s air to breathe

and walking upright is normal again,

it strikes.

A freak wave,

or rogue wind

turns you cartwheels

with a sucker punch.

Today Dad came calling

and I’m breathless,

head swims in an

ether-induced haze.

If nothing exists in a vacuum

how does nothing

manages to hurt so much

leaving scars on scars?

As is the way of the English,

I fight fire with tea,

dunk biscuits the way my

mind soaks in memories.

But you can’t drink tea

with a stiff upper lip.

As I sip his voice echoes

and a smile returns.

Not at a remembrance,

but how awkward he would find this;

emotion, outward displays of affection

and the lack of decent biscuits in the south.