they say death comes in threes
and i really do hate it is true
they say death comes in threes and i really do hate it is true in a week (or so)- three lives gone i am now dreaming of going to an old person’s funeral no, really 46, 19, 5 5, 19, 46 so fucking young so fucking young so fucking young i have found a way to live in grief before more than once i have lost an uncle, aunt, and my mother all in 6 months i didn’t know if i would survive it i say now i wouldn’t wish this on a sworn enemy what happened to me then even though i do not have any enemies they say death comes in threes and i really do hate it is true the wave that comes out of nowhere after those sleepy waves knock the wind out of you like playground recess under the water you are directionless trying to find the light the lint floats bubbles monologue waves prance salt thirst a salt nose sting that comes up through your nostrils and down back your throat the feeling that you are scared you might die somewhere in your ocean, your lifelong friend heartbeats hasten skipping heartbeats descend the great fear and great relief lived in such a quick succession you forget it until it happens again and it is happening again the hardest part of living is losing the easiest part of living is loving each loss is a fingerprint yet part of the same hands hands holding me up every other time we have faced the unthinkable and inevitable of loving people grief is the proof loving fiercely knowing it will only be in this form for a short time but the love is forever they say death comes in threes and i really do hate it is true they didn’t tell you the best part is it makes you want to do more of the living the clarity for me as i find the surface breathing that air again that i want to live
Grief is just like the ocean. Life is so very fragile. I love your beautiful perspective
The waves. The waves. The waves. 🌊 The living in them. 🫂