Where are you

Moon rose 

full and without 

compromise through the good 

garden of leaves, 

here and there 

stars rode in flickering 

slicks of water 

and for certain 

the burly trees 

hunched toward each other, 

their dark mantles 

like the fur of animals 

touching. It was 

summer on earth 

so the prayer 

I whispered was to no god 

but another creature like me. 

Where are you? 

The wind stood still. 

Lightning flung 

its intermittent flares; 

in the orchard 

something wandered 

among the windfalls, 

licking the skins, 

nuzzling the tunnels, 

the pockets of seeds. 

Where are you? I called 

and hurried out 

over the silky sea 

of the night, across 

the good garden of branches, 

leaves, water, down 

into the garden 

of fire. 

This skin you wear so neatly, 

in which you settle 

so brightly on the summer grass, how 

shall I know it? 

You gleam as you lie back 

breathing like something 

taken from water, 

a sea creature, except 

for your two human legs 

which tremble 

and open 

into the dark country 

I keep dreaming of. How 

shall I touch you 

unless it is 

everywhere? 

I begin 

here and there, 

finding you, 

the heart within you, 

and the animal, 

and the voice. 

I ask 

over and over 

for your whereabouts, 

trekking wherever you take me, 

the boughs of your body 

leading deeper into the trees, 

over the white fields, 

the rivers of bone, 

the shouting, 

the answering, the rousing 

great run toward the interior, 

the unseen, the unknowable 

center. 

- Mary Oliver, The Gardens

Where are you dear boy? This I have wondered for weeks and days. It does not matter where you are in your grief journey- there will be days, weeks, months and years that your soul suddenly aches for the missing with a new hunger for their touch, their voice, their smell, the feel of their beating heart. You search endlessly for them in the depth of your heart and must again accept that you will not find what you are searching for and you will not feel what you are missing. 

I go to nature continually to find him. Feeling. My heart. Soul. Sometimes I go alone, sometimes I go with my love and we find ourselves together and miss him together. And we hold ourselves together, both feeling the gut wrenching pain, but healing together in love. 

But some days, some weeks I just ache. And ache. And ache. Sometimes I’m distracted enough that it doesn’t feel like it will kill me. But other days it feels like it could take me away again. 

Then some days we find slivers of happiness, like our new pup Apollo 13 we rescued on the 13th. Somehow this little animal has brought some laughter as we watch him discover a free and wild world. But even in those moments I remember how Kreed discovered the free and wild world. And the ache comes again and again. 

Where are you? I never find Kreed at his resting place. First- that boy never rested a day in his life, always wanting more- more love, experiences, nature, French fries, joy and happiness. I find him in the wind whipping through my body, the suns warmth and in this free and wild world. 

Grief will always come in waves. Whoever said that way back when was correct. It doesn’t matter the time that passes or the way life changes. The pain is there. It’s there to stay. We just learn how to coexist with moments of happiness. We learn to laugh at the puppy and other animals, we learn to enjoy our moments together, but we always, always remember our boy in all of those moments. 

Where are you? Everywhere. 

Everywhere.