Funeral
she looked
same as she did
30 years ago
and with her
ready smile
she pointed out
her three
grown sons
her only daughter
and introduced
her teen grandkids
and on the surface
she seemed fine
as she waved to folks
she knew
who knew her
but her hands
kept fidgeting
with the sack
on her lap
she used
as her purse
and her eyes
darted around the room
seeming to see
everything
in slow motion
“This must be hard for you,” I say.
“Yes … it is,” she says. “You never get over it.
You go through all the emotions. I was angry for a long time.
Sometimes, I’ll be somewhere and something
reminds me of him, and I cry.”
she tells me how she still drives by her old house
the one she brought him home to …
the one he grew up in
became a young man in
and she can still see him out in the yard
playing basketball with his brothers
can see him under the hood with his dad
can see him sitting on the porch
can see him backing out of the drive
can see him waving back to her
can see him …
TL