September

Last year, she was still here –

But the end had begun.

Through March and April,

We were numb with disbelief,

Denial, fear –

But clinging, always, to hope.

Through May and June,

We rode the ups and downs –

Hospital trips, Macmillan visits,

Temperature spikes –

Good days and bad.

Talk of a memory box

Was too much to bear,

For she did not want

To imagine herself

As a memory.

We didn’t either.

July and August

Tricked us into thinking

Time was on our side –

Barbecues, days out,

Impromptu coffees, the Race for Life –

Hopes raised,

Scan results good.

But oh! September –

How you sprung from nowhere,

Punched us hard in the gut

And stole that illusion from us!

Oh, the speed, the downward spiral,

The force with which

You slammed us against the wall,

Day after day,

As you hurtled us closer

To what was becoming

Inevitable,

Inescapable.

And now, you’re here again,

Promising to most,

Open fires, warm jumpers,

Rustling leaves.

But for us,

You rip open,

Barely closed-up wounds,

Forcing jagged edges back on show.

The towering clouds gather,

The temperatures drop,

Reminding us

(as if we had begun to forget)

Of that Autumn night,

Where she was,

Then she wasn’t,

And everything changed.

The world stopped –

But it didn’t –

And now, therefore,

We emerge, blinking,

Into another September,

Wondering how on earth

We made it here

And how on earth,

We’ll face, again,

The intense pain

Of the memories

If forces us to face.