Thornbury Felt Like Thorns…
Came across an old email
I didn’t need to see.
Didn’t need to reopen.
Communication with the venue for our wedding.
A castle in England.
Tea time.
A small country town.
Reading “Thornbury”
felt like thorns.
And suddenly,
there it was again.
The grief.
Why does it still bring tears?
Maybe because a girl grows up
thinking her wedding day
will only happen once.
And the truth is,
there was a time
when planning that wedding
was the most exciting thing in my life.
Newly wearing a ring.
Always something to talk about.
The flowers.
The colors.
How I would do my hair.
Love felt everywhere then.
A new country on the horizon.
A forever taking shape in real time.
People would ask,
“Why a castle?”
And your answer was always,
“Because I’m marrying a princess.”
God.
How can one sentence
still undo me years later?
It hit all at once,
like a flood finally breaking through.
Tears that should have fallen long ago,
but somehow stayed trapped
behind years of noise.
Distractions.
Numbing.
Trying to outrun grief.
But when the quiet finally comes,
when there’s no running from it,
just raw life and emotions
moving through the body..
it finds you.
So for a moment,
I freeze.
My eyes close,
and I’m transported back in time
to the woman who loved you,
loved us,
loved the life she was building
with someone.
And then,
in an instant,
she’s suddenly gone again.
And it’s just me,
sitting in a coffee shop,
next to a matcha,
only spam risk calls
lighting up my phone,
no hand reaching for mine
in longer than I care to admit,
and a left hand,
fourth finger empty.
Proof that even when you let go of the past,
it can still find you.
On a random rainy afternoon.
Inside an old email
that never made its way
to the trash bin.
— Heather Dyan Morgan
A poem about divorce grief, old love, wedding memories, starting over, and the strange way the past can still find you years later.
utah girl in nash 
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