Source:
Adults
Author:
jonny graham
Title:
The death of Terence , the funeral , and the aftermath .
The death. It rained the morning you died. The traffic was slow , the bus late. I missed your passing by ten minutes. Stood you up on your final day. The hospice was as usual , peaceful. I arrived half-running , half-walking. There is something very humbling about a nurse who can look you in the eye and convey a personal message without the need for talking. Alone , I held your hand and smoothed your hair. Struggled to control my emotions. Accepted this final act , this closure. The world swam through out-of-focus eyes and I felt enlightened. Relieved of the burden of care. All the trauma now means nothing in summation. Thank God I didn't have to flick the switch to instigate your passive termination. We cannot even speak now. You , lying there on death-bed sheets. Drawn up , foetal and coma-curled , compromised by redundant catheters. Me , furrowed and harrowed with concern , realizing the end has finally come , fraught with the power of still enduring love. There is no great comfort in this release , but the silence of the moment is , for now , enough. The funeral. I watched from the church doors. Saw myself at the graveside , saw you leave this place. They said I spoke , I can't remember that , just the sorrow and the broken hearts and the red-rimmed eyes under wide brimmed funeral hats and the state of sombre melancholy , that brought us all too near perhaps ? And everybody was far too nice. I just wanted to be alone. To leave this place of final goodbyes before my world collapsed. The aftermath. Acceptance is instant. Coming to terms is anything but. Sometimes I think I see you , in a crowd , on the street . Tricks of the mind , wishful thinking . Grieving takes time and it doesn't get any easier. When it get's dark in the afternoons , that's what I don't like. The sense of solitude , of loneliness , is somewhat overpowering. But time moves on. Today I planted crocus bulbs on your grave, and come the Spring , new life will be flowering.
Published on writebuzz®:
Adults
> Poetry
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