what is grief anyway?

it’s seeing the snow on the rooftops of Paris and wanting to call to tell you.
wishing you could feel the chill of the air on your cheeks,
hold the flakes in your palms and watch them melt.

you came and left as fast as falling snow.
the world stayed still, stagnant, as you slipped behind the curtains and stopped the clocks.
the cogs murmured.
that intricate system you built,
ticking time,
love growing,
gardens planted,
hands getting bigger,
hair growing longer.
how didn’t I see
your skin wrinkling,
your eyes fading.

the engineer silently smiles as he looks at a childhood he crafted.
not for himself.
for the children who called him papa.
who held his face with tiny starfish hands and sat on his shoulders.

That’s what grief is.
it’s wishing I could give you something in return to make you smile.
it’s realising how much you did for us
too late to be able to thank you for it.