The ache is always there but it gets better
It becomes bearable
It becomes livable
She meant the pain she felt for the loss of her son
Still her words come back to me
Because I remembered her today
I remembered when we breathed in the same room
Together
I remembered her pain and my own
I still feel her pain and my own
We will never again breathe in the same room
Together
I remembered her today
and I realized
again
how much I miss her
Ramblings of a Medicated Lady: Words of Woe by Loria Taylor 
7 comments
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July 30, 2009 at 11:48 am
poeticgrin
Sob-worthy. The finality of death can sting when one least expects – weeks, months, decades after.
July 30, 2009 at 5:23 pm
valbrussell
Death hurts like fuck. It’s also not the end.
July 31, 2009 at 4:57 am
Uncle Tree
Keeping her memory fresh in your heart
is a lovely tribute. It helps to set her free.
Bless you, M’Lady.
July 31, 2009 at 8:48 am
medicatedlady
And I did and do sob, Bryan.
No one ever put it better: death hurts like fuck. I appreciate you so much, Val.
Thank you, Uncle.
July 31, 2009 at 7:45 pm
jessiecarty
the repetition of breathing just pulled at my heart.
very moving!
August 4, 2009 at 9:00 am
medicatedlady
Thanks, Jessie.
August 4, 2009 at 9:27 pm
1writegirl
I concur.