I Say

A poem unearthed by a poet.

Like many of you, the unexpected death of Andrea Gibson this week has touched a raw nerve, one I thought was at least scabbed over if not healed, but is still clearly quite close to the surface. I will never have the gift of their painfully sincere voice, but their death urges me to write beyond my usual prose, to pull out something only poetry can make sense of. To write with an honesty I typically guard against.

I’ve written extensively about the death of my mother and my complicated relationship with her, and these words allude to that, but they are beyond that too. A reaching for all the grief I bury, an unearthing of sorts. It is not surprising that when a rare human like Andrea returns to the earth, there is a churning that happens, their essence too big for the space, their arms free to play in the dirt. These words are what arose for me. No matter where your grief lives or what its truth looks like, I hope you’ll allow it to be unearthed. To live in the world with you instead of just under your feet. That is the lesson I learned from Andrea.

---

I say I am “gutted”, but I would never allow myself that grief.

I say that I miss you, the melancholy stealing the sparkle in my blue eyes, your blue eyes, but I will only let the miss travel so far.

I say I have grieved, but perhaps slowly unraveling the anger that grief is necessary is not the same thing.

I say I knew you, but your secrets still scare me.

I say I am broken open, but super glue works on the inside too.

I say the greatest loss is what you’re missing, but you are now infinite, and loss feels like something only I can feel.

I say I know what losing is, but you spent far more time teaching me about loving.

I say that you were the only one who listened, but it is you who taught me how to hear myself.

I say that you are gone, but some days you are closer now than before.

I say that we will remember you, but I hide from your picture on my desk.

I say that I have healed, but every time I tell your story I hurt all over again.

I say that I am exploring joy, but I learned of her existence from you.

I say a lot, but it is my silence that speaks. That is where I hear you.

🧡🧡🧡

For all the grief we bury…