It will be a bad Friday to see you cold- not much more than a week ago- we spoke.
You laughed and drove my boy to the game- you were so very alive-helping me-
as I dealt with doctors and knives.
You brought sweets, though I still can’t eat –
Your son could do no wrong in your eyes
true or no, I don’t criticize.
It was as it should be- you were on his side.
You knew of our failings, what we could never get right-
but your love for him and his boy brought me a kind of rare joy-
That you would never turn on him, no matter his age, the situation- right or wrong-
Nor would he spend years writing letters asking for help, an answer- and wait-
if he feared he couldn’t get by in this once glorious state
perched on expensive tectonic plates.
Those kind of questions he need never ask.
You always said it would happen someday- but your heart never failed until Monday.
The years since we’ve been estranged seem unending- inevitable change impending-
It was never Romeo and Juliet
more like the Montagues and Capulets.
You once said I was like Apollonia -“more Greek than Italian”
but it turned out more like Michael and Kay.
You never blamed me, shamed me-
for not being like you –
for trying to fit in and getting further outside
still you gave me my due- for doing many of the things
even you could not bear to do.
even if it was because you knew
I knew more than I thought /you thought I knew-
though I’m sure you know more than I-
you will take all that with you
as we miss you and kiss you goodbye.