What Do I Do?

“What do I do?”

It was one of the last things she said to me.

When it began to sink in how sick she actually was.

“I’m really sick, aren’t I?”

“Oh, now you tell me?” I tried to feign sarcasm.

“What do I do?”

“Honey, you have to get those antibiotics in you. And fluid. And nutrition.”

“Ok,” she said but was not able to do it.

She couldn’t bounce back.

And I can’t accept that she’s now gone forever.

And I’m not bouncing back, either.

What do I do?

All my friends and family don’t really get it.

Their prescriptions don’t work.

Grieve. Don’t grieve. Think about her. Don’t think about her.

Think positive things.

Do positive things.

Get out and get some exercise.

Play music.

Write down your pain. That’s a good one. I’m building a time capsule of misery.

I’ve revisited some of my past time capsules and don’t find them too refreshing.

Make new friends.

Spend time with family.

Hug your pets.

Help someone else who is hurting.

None of these things are getting to the point.

I have a big hole in my heart and I can try to patch it or plug it or sew it back together,

But it is not bouncing back,

Nor do I really want it to.

I feel like my work is done,

And all I’m doing now is watching the rest of my life slip away.

I wish I could feel better,

It’s what everyone says she would want.

For me to keep going,

Not forget, but move forward,

Honor her memory by not fucking up the rest of my life with torturing myself.

But what do I do?

If I hear birds singing I think,

“The birds are really going to town” is what she always said.

And it made me cry then because she could hear the birds, but couldn’t see them.

Or go outside.

Or do anything.

But she could appreciate that simple thing and observe it cheerily.

And all it does is make me cry,

Rivers of sweet tears.

I’ll never forget.

I don’t want to.