A Marriage of Convenience

I promised myself to Grief on the last day of January

He dropped to a knee while I sat in my hospital bed

My hands nervously stroked my belly

As he produced a ring that eclipsed the one already on my hand

I nodded, with tears in my eyes

Eagerly accepting the pain that I knew would come with an anniversary

I slipped into the wedding gown that only I could see and feel

Covered my head in the heavy veil that dulled my five senses.

It dissolved my memories and belief of a God who gives and protects

Because now all I could see and feel

Was everything that ever hurt me, everything I ever lost

Because it led to this moment, this last day in January.

Grief has courted me since childhood

He doesn’t care that he’s as old as time, little girls are fair game

Especially when the adults in the household have already succumbed to his comfort

He darts in for character development

Disappears, ghosting me long enough for the memories to subside

But Grief comes back in a new car

New red haircut, a manicured beard and holds out his hand to say

I’m back, and this time I’m not going anywhere.

I couldn’t resist if I wanted to.

In the honeymoon phase, I wore my gown to bed, then sought baths

My oversized bathtubs that once provided my weightless safety and comfort

Evolved to a space of suicidal ideation

Closing my eyes, sinking beneath the water

Just like Whitney Houston

Get me out of here

I begged him.

Find me floating in the tub I had to have in ever home I lived in

Floating in my invisible wedding dress that fits me like a glove

It magically compensates when I overeat

Or become too overwhelmed to decide what to eat at all

I can’t slip out of it like my closet full of garments

Or rip it out like hair extensions

It’s all Grief wants me to wear now

He likes the way I wear it, the way it keeps me away from everyone

It’s weight isolates me and he has me right where he wants me.

All to himself.

He, like every man only holds my attention as long as I feel safe.

Eventually, our time together burdened my needs outside of us.

I stopped wearing my dress out, but the ring weighed my hand.

Kept me from writing, trapping the thoughts in the swirling abyss of words inside my mind.

If I could just take the ring off, wear it only when I need it

When do I need this?

Do I need this feeling every January?

Do I summon his touch to remind me of how it felt in the beginning compared to now?

Do I put the ring away to remind myself of how far I can fall into something I love?

How much do I love something before it turns back into Grief?

Do I keep him close to remind myself of what happens when I lose someone I love?

Keep him warming the bench for the next tragedy

Or banish him for good?

He won’t quit me, in fact, he’s the most reliable being in my life.

Grief is usually where I left him

But always pops up when I least expect.