grieving on the 29

“querida…querida…querida…i love you so much querida”

she walked onto the bus alone and i knew.

for the past few years (time is a bit of a vacuum in parkdale), i’ve been seeing a lovely couple on the 29 bus. they travel to dufferin mall because the husband has to go to dialysis. the wife is round and bubbly, the consummate caregiver, ever ecstatic to see me. the feeling is mutual.

yesterday, i saw her for the first time in a long time, and her whole aura was different.

“my husband, he die.”

she sat in the seat in front of me, also a change, as they would always take the first blue seats and wave furiously at me, grabbing me for a kiss on the way out, even when the bus was way too crowded. i’ve spoken with bus drivers before about her-she’s everyone’s favourite.

yesterday, i saw what crying looks like when there are no tears left.

yesterday, i cried the tears that had dried up in her ducts.

i am crying as i write this right now.

yesterday, i saw what grieving the loss of the love your life looks like.

“querida…jesu…querida…jesu…querida…”

we held hands on an unseasonably warm november afternoon, crying and expressing our love for each other. i didn’t understand all of the words that she was saying, i never do, but i think we got the important ones.

just like i cannot imagine what it would be like to grieve parents that one loves, i cannot imagine what it would be like to lose a lifelong love, never knowing that kind of love.

increasingly, i’m not convinced that that is necessarily a bad thing.

i wish all of the healing and peace and sanctuary to this woman.

i thank her for the remainder that i still have tears to hold and shed, and we all still have work to do.

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