DAY 102 - THE LEAVING

I've been deeply affected by the passing of so many of my much loved family members over the years. It seems I have a very strong need to put those feelings on paper, almost as a way to honor them.  

102.

THE LEAVING

I remember the February night my mother-in-law died;

four of us in the cramped room at the nursing home,

wanting to be with her when she passed as if our being there

could somehow make it easier.

She fought so hard, the consummate mother,

in spite of the horrible toll Alzheimer's had taken on her mind and body.

When she was gone, I saw a tiny tear trickle down her cheek.

Look, I said, she's crying, but no they said, it happens sometimes.

It's called the tear of death.

Just six months later my father-in-law left us, too.

Same nursing home but different this time.

There was no bedside vigil;

he slipped away on a quiet Sunday morning.

It's August now, the day after his funeral;

they're together again, side by side

on a grassy slope overlooking Rogers Lake.

South from their markers are old friends Betty and Al.

It's peaceful here except for the planes in a holding pattern

at the nearby airport but we don't notice them today.

They're a part of the living and we've left that behind.

We've brought glasses and several bottles of good wine,

we who've loved them best and lost the most.

We arrange ourselves close to them, sitting on the grass,

tell their favorite stories and laugh and cry

because what we remember is all so sweet.

We pour wine for each of us and

then we pour their wine into the earth above them

and drink one last toast together.

*comments welcome