You don’t expect the tendrils of grief
To reach out and strangle your heart

You don’t expect the moments of life
To call back the regrets, the pain, or the loss

You don’t expect the places, spaces or times
To remind you of what you lost

And yet – without expectation
Without planning
They rise up
And exhale

It was as we drove in and he said
“I remember this place.”
“It was the last time.”
It was. The last time we saw her.

But the pain isn’t even that.

It’s years of loss.
Years of struggle
Years of heartache and hard work
Years of stress and stressors

And these moments call it all back.

In ways I didn’t expect.

So today I sit.

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