The confusion of grief

With the fresh reality, everyone shows up

"Let us help."

"What can we do?"

They don't know what to do.

I don't know what they can do.

Physically close is uncomfortable

because a hug may feel right

but could be rebuffed

where does that leave them?

It leaves them with arms empty

while I live days and nights

with every part of everything empty.

Talking is easy when I fill the air.

In the throes of disaster

I had a focus

there was illness or getting well

or planning for death...

all those provided a solution

The aftermath leaves nothing but

ends to tie up and items to sort.

and the things that show up that

I must decipher

Thoughts to clear away

pieces of white paper and colored

what to keep and whatever mattered

A life reduced to rubble

and piles of useless clutter.