My friend Jenn just lost her husband to cancer. He was 45 and leaves behind six broken-hearted children. Seeing her at the Vigil brought up a lot of grief – for her and for me. And later this poem came to me:

The heart breaks along the same line
when your heart-held love dies;
husband or son, adult or child
the pieces separate and breath
is shortened.
Cheeks tremble and the whole body follows
as people press upon you
to say hollow words filled with heaviness.
And then it arrives that moment of closing;
don’t look! you won’t survive.
Numb now but inwardly screaming you follow.
“I see people but where is he?
He should be here to comfort me
if I am broken.
But he is the why of all this pain.
Must I look – they expect it.
Too many grieving
How can I give?
I am empty.
Don’t ask of me, don’t ask;
I cannot mother you today.
But I do – I must – he would demand it.
And so I go on and love them for him; love him through them.”

(c) Mona Villarrubia