An Egregious Attempt to Sugarcoat Loss

He lies silently in the box,
my husband of thirty years,
a still life resting on satin, in birch.

Wrinkled figures in black have gathered
to hug, touch me, lock hands
in perpetual Parkinson's motion.

Sympathies stolen from Hallmark cards
float beside my muted consciousness.
Platitudes abound.

"He's free from pain," croaks a momentary mourner,
his cancerous condolence barely audible
through the hole in his throat.

"It's a blessing," offers Auntie Roo.
Her blood red lips and cakey rouge
make her look as dead as the departed.

Left with how to forge
life from loss – a widow learns death
brings an end to things begun.

<< Back to I Want You To Know