Sitting with the Grieving

Another short visit with my sister to keep her company just shy of the two month mark. We wish we could be here more. I wish we weren’t so far away. I wish my sister wasn’t alone.

We don’t do much. Leaving the house for anything is still such a treacherous task. At any moment her grief might swallow her up and drag her away. He’s never coming back. Her whole future shattered.

So we sit. We sit and pass the time watching birds and squirrels in her yard. We play games on our phones or read a book while the breeze blows around us. Sometimes we talk. Heavy, weighty talks of life, souls, health, love, family, loss. Lighter talks of work, the kids’ activities, childhood memories, her dog’s wacky antics.

We break it up with cooking and meals, coffee refills, checking on the kids. In and out. In and back out again. I don’t always say or do the right thing, but I’m here. I’m here.

And now we’re headed home. And she’s alone again.