I was a healthy and vibrant tree
Violently uprooted and moved
Scarred and misshapen but nourished again
Roots fully entrenched
Growing anew in a place I thought was to be my forever home.
Then blasted from my foundation
Starting at my roots, as if by dynamite.
Trunk, limbs and branches splattered recklessly into the air.
Dried bits of what I had become remain
Shards of kindling now
Strewn too far and wide
To be or rebuild a recognizable or cohesive whole again.
Phrases and sentences fail to communicate what *this* has done to me. I want to go back to the fifth and sixth lines above. I had finally accepted B.W.'s death. I had accepted that I would love him and grieve his death for as long as I lived. Zachary was alive, came to be part of my re-made reality, in that time. I worked to embrace everything about my life in that time.
When my face is twisted or vacant or furious or...
If I don't respond, not in an acceptable way or on an acceptable timeline...
What can't be ignored, that exists in between the lines, in my silence...
When nothing can distract or comfort...
In the way I am no longer the person, friend, daughter, wife, sister, mother you knew...
It is Zachary.
It is Zachary's suffering and death, after having rebuilt my life in the wake of B.W.'s death.