The waiting room

At first no one speaks
Or shrieks from the pain.

We sit in silence and wait for the call,
The one that changes everything.

We haven’t prepared for this as
Sisters, brothers, cousins,
Children, grandchildren.

How do we express what’s
On the tips of our tongues?
Those words that make it feel too real.

Too unsanitary, too cold, too…
So instead we sit in silence

Until those thoughts finally unleash
And the truth is easier to bear.

Here’s what I wrote

There’s this sting in my throat
And in my chest.
I have a feeling it will always be there.

I knew this day would come,
No one lives forever.
But it feels too soon, too sudden.

The only thing grounding me
Is my phone in my hand.
Waiting for that call,
Waiting for it all to end.

Finally, it rings and my mom
Utters the words I never wanted to hear.
The drive was a blur, and so was the walk from my car
And the elevator ride up.

So, I did the one thing I knew:
I pulled out my phone
And wrote this message
To you.

Louisa

Grief struck me like lightning.
Repeatedly, but never in the same place twice,
yet just enough to shatter me into pieces.

Her absence was present in every room
and in every conversation.
There were so many words left unsaid.

I miss her smile and her laugh,
and I swear I smell her perfume,
still stuck to her clothing that’s now mine.

In the labyrinth, I’ll go to find answers for losing her:
Twists, turns, and dead ends will face me,
but I’ll keep searching and wrangling

To pick up the pieces for myself
but most importantly for her.

---

Grace Calabrese is a senior English major with a minor in pre-law at Ohio Northern University. She is originally from Cleveland, Ohio and has hopes of returning to her hometown to attend law school after her undergraduate studies. Her dream is to become a successful lawyer, specializing in family law, while also writing creatively in her free time.