I can write the saddest poem of all tonight.

You can cut all the flowers but you cannot keep spring from coming.

pablo neruda (extracts)

have you ever read his poems? even in translation, they can grip at your heart with tears of extreme, unfathomable joy or anguish. you can go from smiling to crying to smiling again across stanzas and lines.

this time of the month, this time of the year:

death is a great sadness and with death, forgetting can never really happen. they could have stolen your presence but in the ones you truly loved and touched, the memories have taken deep root in every one of us and they are part of what makes us who we are as we continue to live this earth and grow older, wiser, with more pessimism, or optimism, more selfishness, or more love. for the past few weeks when i thought of her randomly, i wanted to articulate something but did not know what. now with a rock in my throat, this suddenly came to me. and as i feel a great loss at the profound cruel sorrow of your passing last year, i thank God that i have memories of you so wonderful and whole and beautiful that they remind me of the need to be a better person and to love those around me with more than i think i can give.