His things...

Your Things

I pulled out the box filled
with his things today -
his second birthday.
The blue t-shirt, tiny diapers,
the front-pack carrier
that still smells of vomit -
even the stupid shunt.

And the sympathy cards
full of words, words, words.
The cards that remind me
of how terribly alone I was,
and how angry I was
to get the pretty words of "comfort".

I needed to touch his things
to remind myself that they were real,
and there's a reason for this pain.
.