Every Night

My father
Sleeps a
Few feet
Away from
Where my
Mom died.

Weeks before
Her official
Passing he had
Pronounced her
Already dead.

Stopped
Listening to
Her voice,

Properly
Feeding her,

Or treating
Her like
Human.

—-

I arrived to
Find her in
A Shrunken
State. jaw
and collar
Bones

Subdued
Into near
Silence.

Luckily,

I’m not
Deterred
So easily
By quiet.

—-

For days,
I asked
Her ?s &
Listened
To her
Shallow
Breathe
Struggles
To string 2-
3 words, &
Make more
Sense than
My father
Would give
Her credit.

—-

I heard her,
And the more
I heard her, the
More she spoke,
The more she ate,
The more energy she
Exuded, Until she was
Fashioning wit and person
Like I always knew, but never
Took the time to appreciate in
A fullness death introduces you
To of those you never loved loud
Enough, soon enough, lively enough.

—-

I heard her
Until I couldn’t.
And then I drove
The four hours there
To hold her hand, as she
Laid dying, and I couldn’t
Feel her there any longer,
And felt little need to speak
Any truths she hadn’t already
Heard. I drove four hours back,
And as soon as I arrived safely,
In the SUV she gifted me to keep,
My father called, and she was gone.

Leave a Reply

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s