We used to play Scrabble
on the psychiatric ward.

We wouldn’t talk much.
But we stayed at our table for hours on end.
Readjusting ourselves on plastic chairs
Breathing in stale, clinical air.

My mind wandered.

I was petrified for her, in this place.
Because when the visiting hours were over,
I would leave, back to our childhood home,
To sleep in the bed in the room we used to share.

And, I would be safe.
But she would still be in this place.

When the visiting hours were over,
She would retreat to her room,
The one in the farthest back corner
The one with that small billboard
Where they always spelt her name wrong.

She would crawl under her weighted blanket.
And the hospital lights would dim to darkness.
A temporary reprieve from fluorescent overdose.

Did she sleep? Or did she lay, wide awake, afraid?
I was petrified for her, in this place.

Maybe what I didn’t understand at the time,
Was that the things surrounding her, here
Were nothing in comparison
to the things playing tricks in her mind.

But still,
There we were.
Seven letter tiles each.
Carefully laid in turn,
Across from each other.
The psychiatric ward around us,
At least partially blurred.

Maybe what I found comforting,
Was that for a moment those tiles
Transported us
to another place, another time.
To our grandparent’s home.
To best friends’ basements.
To kitchen tables.
To normal.

Or maybe what I found comforting
Was that she still giggled to herself,
as she laid her letters down,
one-by-one
to spell the word,
“fart”.

A delicate waft of lightness
A reminder that she was still “there”
A declaration that she was still fighting

Even though she had travelled to
And was still deeply engulfed by
the darkness of her mind,
in the darkest of places.

---

Continue Reading My Collection of Grief Reflections:

1. Surviving The Loss of Sisterhood
2. (SOMETIMES) | Our Matching Tattoos
3. I Wear My Dead Sister’s Clothes
4. My Cherry Blossom
5. Dear Autumn
6. Behind The Scenes
7. What Are You Thankful For
8. Little Women
9. Our Last Day Together
10. Scrabble On The Psychiatric Ward
11. What’s Harder? Death Days Or Birth Days?
12. Rebuilding Trust With The World
13. Christmas Eve
14. Maddie, I Wish I Could Run Like You
15. All We Can Do Is Try
16. What To Say To Someone Who Is Grieving

Read my Sister’s observations, reflections, and poetry:

1. Two Belugas, Two Blue Guys
2. I am not a sculpture, I am a garden