This sort of grief is weird.
Maybe all grief is weird.
I mostly remember the asshole you.
It’s the you I knew
last, most recently.
Now, it’s the only
you —
Which must mean
you only know the
bitch me.
See?
Weird. Grief is weird.
Recently,
Our daughter put you on speaker
accidentally,
and I heard the you
how you used to speak to me.
I haven’t heard that voice for years.
the fun you
kind, funny, even
sweet.
Damn
that’s sad.
I hate it.
It’s easier to live in
mad
when I’m not forgetting about you
which luckily I
go back to
quickly.
Slices of Betrayal 
One response to “Grief is Weird.”
I SO get this! Although all our kids are older than yours, one of them has developed a seizure disorder… which means way more contact with their dad than I would like. The last time I saw him in person, and he told me he was doing therapy & it was helping, I almost spit in his face. He couldn’t be bothered to do therapy WITH ME. Jack ass. I will, however, admit to silent, petty gloating at the fact that he put the weight back on that he had lost in the last few years of our marriage. Some days are just hard.
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