As I take my groceries out of the car, I'm reminded once again...
Winter has gone, Summer has come.
And your stuff is still in the trunk.
Spilling out of the plastic bags.
Untouched and ignored.
Your cane waiting to be walked.
Your pajama bottoms waiting to be worn.
I berate myself,
"Take them upstairs schmuck!"
Oh but that ache, that familiar ache that follows...
Right here, below the ribs.
Slam goes the trunk!
Not yet. Not now.
I can't. I won't.
Maybe when the summers ends...
Dad, I wonder if this makes you smile...
I bet it does.
-
Author:
Night Owl (
Offline) - Published: August 8th, 2017 20:19
- Comment from author about the poem: My father passed this winter and I still have his stuff from the hospital in my car... Coming to terms with loss.
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 32
Offline)
Comments4
My condolences and I'm sorry for your loss. But you will be together again.
TY AP ~:)
TY JaneEVE
I identified so much with your poem. Each step that I try to take to remove my husband's belongings from our home is like torture. Having to accept a reality that I do not want to be true. He is gone and no longer needs any of it but still I cannot let go. X
I think this is a process- there's no right or wrong- This kind of healing takes time- It has it's pain and sweetness... One day at a time friend...
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.