Today, I close a door left open wide,
But never locked, in case one day, you seek
To return to the place we called our own,
A space once shared, now distant yet near.

On my side, memories linger, healing
From the bond we nurtured, fragile yet full;
But missing still, a knock from the other side,
A sign that you remember too.

On your side, your hand lingers on the handle,
Hesitant, unsure if the past is worth revisiting,
Afraid it may remind you of a love once tender,
That slipped through our fingers like sand.

Our hands meet; two souls on opposite sides,
Turning the **** together,
Opening the door once more.
What begins as a polite greeting
Melds into an embrace,
A hug that stretches time,
Filling the air with memories.

We are carried back,
To a time when we stood on the same side of the door,
Happy, united, alive in our shared warmth.
We leave it unlocked,
For whatever future may come.

A door is just a door;
And though we close it now,
It will never be locked,
For the love and friendship we once knew,
Still lingers, waiting, on both sides.

— Sincerely, Boris

For the young,
the gut-wrenching ache
of love lost
Remembers.

The old witches know:
it forgets,
for memory is the reward—
a gift for having known
a twin in this world
(even if only for a short time).

Act One:

It takes a year to learn loss,
to feel the weight of each day without its rhythm,
what once was, is now only a shadow,
what was here, has slipped away.

It takes a year to understand the space
you still hold in my heart, in my mind.
What was once hollow, now aches with memory.
What was once vacant, is now filled with longing.

It takes a year to fall in love,
and a moment to take it for granted.
What was once ours, has drifted beyond reach.
What was once ours, belongs to the past.

It takes a year to regret the deepest mistake,
to lose everything; even yourself.
What was once within grasp, is now gone,
what once was life, is now distant.

It takes a year to mourn the loss,
to feel again what was missed and forgotten.
What once broke me, has now faded,
what once shattered, is now still.

It takes a year to feel the sting of absence,
to realize the love you held is no longer yours,
and in the stillness of that truth, we find peace,
carving space for new beginnings, for what’s to come.

Act Two:

One year ago today,
I spoke those words,
I never thought I’d say again;
‘I love you,’ and in that moment,
My world had forever changed.

— Sincerely, Boris

Grief is not something one simply “gets over.” It’s a profound and transformative process that we learn to carry with us, reshaping it into wisdom and strength. Through my own experiences; surviving a traumatic childhood, navigating a toxic divorce, losing a best friend, and enduring health battles; I’ve come to realize that grief is best navigated with the support of others, not in isolation.

There are essential needs we must honor when mourning: acknowledging the reality of loss, embracing the pain, and leaning on others to help carry the weight. Grief is not an experience to be rushed or solved, but rather a process of reconciliation; a deep acceptance that transforms us. Pain doesn’t vanish, but with time and support, we learn to live alongside it. I’ve walked this path, understanding that grief becomes a part of us, woven into the fabric of who we are, reshaping our identity.

I’ve been incredibly fortunate to have a circle of friends and family whose love has carried me through the darkest moments. My older sister and twin brother, in particular, have been my constant companions in this journey. They were there during my childhood, when trauma was a silent presence. They stood by me through my divorce, when I questioned my worth as a husband and father. And they held me up through the grief of losing my best friend and the challenges of facing health issues that left me questioning my own mortality.

In my journey as a 41-year-old single father to my beautiful 9-year-old daughter, I’ve come to understand the deep depths of grief and the importance of embracing vulnerability. Grief is not merely an experience to endure but a courageous path toward healing and authenticity. It has taught me that acknowledging our pain allows us to connect more deeply with ourselves and others, paving the way for genuine mourning.

Through my experiences in grieving past relationships, I’ve learned that vulnerability is a strength rather than a weakness. Recently, during a theater outing, my daughter witnessed my tears while watching Wild Robot. On our walk home, she courageously asked me which parts of the movie had affected me the most. We paused on a bench, sharing our feelings and reflecting on the moments that sparked emotion within us. Together, we grieved for the old goose Longneck, honoring his courage and bravery for a few quiet moments.

This experience not only deepened our bond but also illustrated to her that expressing emotions is a natural and valuable part of life. In those moments, I realized that fostering an environment where feelings can be shared freely helps nurture resilience and empathy in her. By embracing our vulnerabilities, we honor our grief and create space for love, connection, and understanding, reminding ourselves that mourning is an integral part of our shared humanity. In navigating my own grief, I hope to guide her in finding the courage to authentically experience her emotions as she grows, assuring her that it’s okay to feel deeply and openly in a world that often encourages the opposite.

What I’ve learned is that grief, in its purest form, is a communal experience. The presence of those who care for us is essential. It’s in their company that I’ve found solace, in their compassion that I’ve discovered the strength to keep moving forward. The relationships that have endured through these hardships have been my lifeline, helping me process not only the pain of loss but also the profound sense of survival and rebirth that follows.

In my support group, I’ve found a space where vulnerability is met with understanding, where shared experiences foster healing. These connections have reminded me that we are not meant to bear the weight of our grief alone. My siblings’ generosity and my friends’ loyalty have allowed me to reshape my pain into something meaningful. Through them, I’ve found the courage to keep walking this path, not in spite of the losses I’ve faced, but because of the love that surrounds me.

Grief may be inevitable, but it is not insurmountable. With time, with patience, and with the unwavering support of those who care for us, we can reconcile our losses and create a new understanding of who we are. In the end, it’s the love we receive that helps us carry the grief; and in that love, we find the strength to continue.

—

It’s as if you’ve spent a lifetime in pursuit, tirelessly honing your craft, only to meet the moment you’ve long awaited; and falter. In that instant, the prize you held so tightly slips through your fingers, drifting out of reach, lost forever.

Every step, every sacrifice, has led you here, only for the dream you chased so relentlessly to dissolve before your eyes. The weight of expectation presses down, and the failure burns deep, rending your heart in waves, relentless in its ache.

But at the end, where defeat seemed inevitable, something unexpected awaits. There, beyond the finish line, stand the ones you love most; cheering, smiling, their eyes bright with pride. Their applause whispers a truth louder than your loss: that second place is but a number. In their eyes, you have always been, and will always be, their champion.

— Sincerely, Boris

Little darlin’, it’s been a long, cold, lonely winter
It feels like years since it’s been here

Now I have baggy, dull shirts with jeans
Then, I’d wear anything but

Now I struggle with communicating
Then, I was a social butterfly

Now I can’t seem to find motivation for art often
Then my stepdad would push me to do what I loved because he said I was “Amazing and talented!”

Little darlin’, I feel like ice is slowly melting in my brain.
It feels like years since my head has been clear.

I tend to miss him and his grayish eyes that always had a twinkle in them when he was cheerful

Now I sit in my room figuring out what to do with myself
Then, Eddie would check on me while I was splattering colorful paint on a bright white canvas

But here comes the sun each day,
I dread it almost every time because the thought of missing loved ones hurts too much.

Now, I wake up before the sun, waiting to see how my week unravels like a red carpet.


Then, I used to want to grow up & move out of this place,
Now I’m not sure what to do.

But it’s alright, soon I’ll start to feel like me again.

i took your socks.
i don't remember if you wore shoes—
but just before they took you,
i took your socks.
i don't know why.
you didn't need them,
but i regretted it instantly.

later i bought you new socks:
long, cable-knit ones to keep you cozy.
to keep you warm.

i'll never forget.

Some intangible,
Grief making my steps heavy,
Loss weighing like lead.