07/09/2025
5 years.
Grief shows up in many shapes and sizes.
Sometimes it lasts for one held breath…
Other times—like this year—it comes and knocks you down.
With wobbly legs, I tried to stand up again,
to compartmentalize my life—
because there are emails that need to be written,
jobs that need to be done.
But this time, I just decided I needed to feel it.
And I’m completely aware of the privilege it is—
to pause,
to let the pain, the anger, the loss move through me,
to feel the sadness of missing someone you truly love.
So I held space for it—like an old friend.
Me + The Big G.
We looked at pictures of Joe.
Read his obituary.
Reread poetry I wrote right after his death.
Sat on his memorial bench.
Wrote him a letter.
Listened to the music he loved.
And today,
I took my sadness on a long walk in the Wissahickon.
I’ve cried so much my eyes look like little tortellini shells upon waking.
I’ve been very quiet.
I have no resolutions.
This is not a post about what I’ve learned,
or how I’ve grown,
or how I’m wrapping things up.
It’s just about
feeling what needs to be felt.
Moving what needs to be moved.
Seeing what needs to be seen.
I love you and miss you, Joe.
xoxo
