Sandy beach with waves in the background. In the foreground, there are four pieces of driftwood stuck vertically into the sand.


… even this late, it comes — the knowing, the unbearable laid true for five years: you are gone.

Pismo Beach pier at sunset. The sky is orange and water is blue-purple with orange reflections of the lights on the pier

You don’t notice the dying leaving

You don’t notice the dying leaving
when they really choose to leave you.

Beach on Maui at sunset. The water reflects the colors of the sunset; there are a few white clouds in the sky above the water.

What it comes to is this:

Though we appear to die, we do not. Death is merely a change of address …

An oak tree in a grassy field

Solvitur Ambulando

Jan Haag teaches journalism and creative writing at Sacramento City College where she is the chair of the journalism department and advises student publications. She is the author of Companion Spirit, a collection of poems about her husband’s death at the age of 48, published by Amherst Writers & Artists Press. She leads writing groups in Sacramento where the topic of grief and loss often arises.

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