Dandelion Breaths

You no longer test me with pop quizzes of independence and sass.   There are no sweaters dropped at the door, no dishes piled in the sink.   Grief has dark humor. One moment it allows me peace, comfort you no longer suffer the pain of illness. The next moment I am overcome with the agony I will never hear you sing, laugh, or feel your hugs.   Death didn’t come gentle. It raged and tortured your body, paraded doctors through your hospital room dragging needles, tests, and incompetence.   I’ve heard more sermons on hell than I can count, but not one told me losing my child would make me feel like God was more theater than real.  ©Susie Clevenger 2022