Chelsea. It’s a year to the day.
1991-2009
The mourning has not gone well. I’ve grieved, and not. I’ve handled it, and not.
I can think of her without tears, but only rarely; because of this, I only rarely think of her.
She does help me with Bean, in trying to do better in recognizing and responding to her needs. I’m patient with Bean in a way I was not always with Chelsea.
I couldn’t see that she was dying, couldn’t see her.
I still can’t, in so many ways.
My sweet Chelsea still has something more to teach me. Perhaps by next year, I can finally let her rest.
AbsurdBeats 