Last week, my Substack friend Julie Hester shared a poem and writing prompt that stayed with me through my son Elliot’s birthday weekend. She had me at “acrostic,” so I jumped in and “ridiculously courageous” jumped out. 
Two days ago, Elliot would have turned 34. Still unbelievable. Still excruciating. Thankfully, some memories have softened into sweet nostalgia over the past seven years, losing their hypodermic sting. Others knock me over with the force of a gale-force wind—like seeing a slender young man at the table next to me, surrounded by family, blowing out a blaze of candles on a slice of Tres Leches cake. The efficient server with the bright smile probably wondered why I was weeping. These days, I’m more comfortable with a susurrus, as Elliot would say, a gentle trace of the past wafting into the present. And I am grateful for the wisdom of others like Julie. Thank you for sharing this profound poem and suggesting this perfect prompt. It was a trace of grace. Because So I can’t save the world— Julie’s Prompt: Find a phrase to use as an acrostic (write each letter down the left side of the page, to begin a new word, phrase, or sentence.) Write about your own commitment and courage, or how you hope to practice love. Ridiculously Courageous Reckoning with loss’s weight, I still can’t contain the Depth of your presence In this Möbius Cycle of Uber ache— Life doesn’t promise Our Unending Safety— Like You being gone. Can this liminal Ocean of tides, Unrelenting, ever Retreat when no Anchors remain? Grounding me somewhere, Elliot oh Elliot, On this day, I will always be Undone. So, I will live— and so, I will love. You're currently a free subscriber to Grief Matters. For the full experience, upgrade your subscription.
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