She's gone.

She's gone.
She is gone.
I spent two hours with her 6 days ago, hugged her good-bye and started crying because damn it..
I knew it would be the last time I saw her.
I am grateful for the chance I had to see her. I wish it had been longer.
All the things I never said
All the things I never did
all spilling into nothingness
I can't believe that this is it

Death is not like the piano. Practice does not make perfect.
It is always like this.
Grief happens like a paper grocery bag splitting in the rain
everything falling out
and there you are
actually crying over spilt milk
the cantaloupe on concrete
bleeding orange onto the street
looks like how your voice would sound
if you could open up your throat enough to say
Wait.
No.
I still have this Get Well card to send you.
Come back.