Mourning

many will remember the calm air

the perfect blue sky

the long line of middle-income sedans

parking to left of the brown brick church

the ceremony’s teary speeches,

each reaching new depths of compassion

and the minister draped in black

smiling with wistful sincerity

many will remember the reception’s overflowing food

and wine and trivial conversations,

crying babies and strong adults

clad in shades of dusk

each of us more sorrowful than the next

all feeling for the parents who lost their first-born son

and now shoulder the unimaginable burden

of accepting our expressions of condolence

we have come to say good-bye,

to pay our respects,

knowing it isn’t easy

letting go

cousins, nieces, nephews, neighbors,

footballers, friends, bakers, bankers,

brothers and sisters

and me

none of us a stranger in every way,

having you to tie our lives together

your sister will recall the first note you sang off-key

and that pitiful look of deep embarrassment

that strode across your baby face

your cousins will recall the boating accident off the cape

when you came so close to capsizing

and I will remember

the first time you said

I’m sorry

and we cried and hugged so tightly

we found our way back to each other

Now someone else must stir the chili

count the ones and fives

sing a cappella

alone in the blue tiled shower

deliver wine

lift boxes

mow the lawn

answer the phone

tuck our daughters into bed

slow dance—his hands not quite fitting like yours

***

Copyright © 11/05/2004 by Christy Munson. All rights reserved.