Hummmmmmmmmm

A hummingbird appeared

in the courtyard, when my

aunt Keri was about to die.

It landed on each of us and

Then flew inside.

Hummmmmmmmmmm

Keri was pure and kind.

She loved grapefruits.

She loved how sweet they were.

How ironic.

Hummmmmmmmmmm

They don’t tell you how when

You have a close extended

Family you feel the weight

Of a loss in ripples.

Their grief pulses and collides

and amplifies in your chest.

Theirs becomes yours too.

Fast and frantic and

Unseen like a hummingbird’s wings.

Hummmmmmmmmmmmm

I am sad but

Do I feel as sad as them?

Do I feel as bad as them?

I grieve a mother figure but

I don’t grieve a mother like them.

A sister like them.

A spouse like them.

A daughter like them.

So I grieve for them but

Where do I sit in the hierarchy?

Am I allowed to be sad too?

Hummmmmmmmmmmmm

My grief skips rocks but

They grieve in boulders.

Hummmmmmmmmmmmm

Why didn’t they include me,

When they scattered her ashes at

The grapefruit tree?

When they see pink flowers,

Why don’t they think of me?

If we don’t share the weight of this loss equally,

Are we still a family?

Hummmmmmmmmmmmm

Seriously

Don’t they know that

Since she’s been gone

I’ve never cried so hysterically?

Hummmmmmmmmmmmm

But she’s their mom so

I make munchies and charcuterie

in her name.

I eagerly listen and try

To say the right thing, bring

Her up and when needed I

Change the channel for them

Searching for a show not about

Loss or cancer or mothers and

daughters. A surprisingly difficult

Task considering our insatiable

Craving for death.

I listen to my cousin’s grief podcast.

I write this poem and feel guilty.

I speak at the service

Careful in my speech not to exaggerate our closeness.

Hummmmmmmmmmmmm

My grief can only exist in crevices.

I am wine poured into a jar of sand.