LACRIMARIUM

But death has come, untimely. You weren’t sure how to fill the days, how to face an empty seat at the table, or how to familiarize yourself with the now cold side of the bed. One by one, you collected your tears into a glass lacrimarium. Three days of wake passed to bring the day of the funeral. In mourning, dressed in black, a veil covering your face and watery eyes, you made your way to the burial site. Family and dear ones paid their respects and did their best to offer you condolences, assistance, and words of encouragement. As people dwindled and the winter sun sank lower in the sky, you stayed, knowing you couldn’t remain forever, but all the while not sure how to walk away. You knelt at the freshly turned soil that now encapsulated the person you love. A wave of grief overtook you once more, sobbing and wailing, furious to have to face life alone. After a few moments, you regained some composure as tears still silently fell in the streambeds they already carved into your cheeks. You dropped the remaining ones into the small space left in your lacrimarium. You placed the stopper into the vial, gingerly set it at the base of their gravestone, and leaned forward to kiss their cold, etched name. What is grief but love persisting?