Tuesday morning grief poem

I know I said I wasn't going to go on and on about the "internal" stuff of this f'n grief journey, but sometimes rules are meant to be broken, and sometimes I come across something that says things so much better than I am yet able, and sometimes it feels like it will resonate with more than just me, so I sometimes feel like I just need to share, with the hopes that maybe someone else will get something from this, too. My good friend, Lisa, whose beautiful son, Sam, died just a few weeks before Bob, sent me this today. It's one of those (many) things that I read and think, "Yeah, what she said . . ." The only thing I'd add is that sometimes, all of those things happen during the course of just one day, sometimes in an hour, or perhaps the course of a few minutes . . . many times over (which makes writing about it so f'n hard; I just can't keep up with the waves) . . .  like right now, I'm feeling grief lapping at my feet, but just this morning, I had a dream about Bob, which caused me to wake up, awash in gut-wrenching sobs, which triggered a damn coughing spell, which made me cry even harder because Bob used to take such good care of me whenever I got sick—make me soup, hot tea, Excedrin, backrubs, do all kinds of extra stuff around the house, —laundry, meals, walk the dogs, yard stuff . . . all without complaining . . . and now I'm sobbing again . . .

Grief still has to be worked through.It is like walking through water.Sometimes there are little waves lapping about my feet.
Sometimes there is an enormous breaker that knocks me down.
Sometimes there is a sudden and fierce squall.
But I know that many waters cannot quench love,
neither can the floods drown it.
We are not good about admitting grief,
It is embarrassing.
We turn away, afraid that it might happen to us.
But it is part of life, and it has to be gone through.

~ Madeleine L’Engle