Their lives

I never thought the pain would be physical

Like a hole next to my heart

Or is it here, close to the gut?

¿En las entrañas?

(I never cared much for anatomy)

So many years busy being parents

Groceries to buy, forms to fill, meals to cook

So much running around

We were getting good at it when they left

I yearn to come back home to a messy, noisy house

School bags, toys, clothes scattered everywhere

How I used to complain!

This spotless, silent house reminds me it’s over

Today I want to scream, I want to make a mess

The sadness comes in waves, as does grief

Mostly, I’m ok, at times even euphoric

And then the emptiness is back and takes me by the throat

Where have they gone? and why?

Are they safe?

How do you shield what you no longer hold?

Children do not belong to us, I am told

I want to scream