"Well," you said
As we were sitting on the couch
Watching Masterpiece Theater
After dinner, "Jim died,"
You said, "today."
For three weeks
I've been waiting
And ready for the news,
Drawing out the longest goodbye
And listening for the final breath
And you took my hand.
You didn't stare at me
Or wait to see
If I was crying,
Or if I would break
And I turned toward you,
The slightest inclination
Just to be nearer,
As if our being together
Could somehow make it right.
I imagined him on this day,
And how he always hated
Going to church on holidays.
Jim watched golf on Easter
And was happy.
And he was as ready as we were,
Tired of living when life was all but gone.
He didn't want to go, really,
But once he knew he would
He didn't want to wait.
So now this day of resurrection
Is also a day of farewell
And perhaps
That's as it should be.
Tempered, always,
One tear for joy and one for sadness,
One tear of thanks for now
And one for then,
A smile of remembrance,
No longer raging against the end.
"Well, it's done," said the Dickens character on TV,
"And we must brave it as best we can."
And I laughed and laughed then because,
If you're listening, life always knows
Exactly what to say.
