In the Vestibule

In a room throbbing with pain, we gather...
so much unspoken,
so many unexpressed reasons for the tears,
so much anguish not shared.

In little groups we stand chatting. Is this
how we revere the dead?
In little groups we stand laughing. Is this
how we pay homage?

We speak of life's superficial things - jobs and
kids and cars.
Is this how we honor her life?
I feel confused by this and so much more...

In the Chapel

confused by what the priest says.
He speaks of her new
and better life, yet
applauds her struggle to stay
with this one.

What does this mean? that we cling
to this one because it's all we know?
that we have to come to believe
we are ready for something else? something
perhaps better?

But what about people who die suddenly?
Do they come to that acceptance
in a mere instant?

Feeling confused by my mixed and tangled
feelings, I ask myself
what I am crying for.

I cry for everyone and everything. I cry
for death and I cry for life.
Like my feelings the two are mixed
and tangled, each inextricably part
of the other, each both painful
and beautiful.

The incense, the holy water, the priest's robes,
the candles, the ritual words...
remind me
of my own loss and grief. Deeply buried,
they are pushed to the surface
raw and stinging. Once again I cry
for the loss of my father. Once again I ache
for the loss of my mother. Then I feel selfish
and guilty...
and I cry for this.

I cry for regret...
regret for not knowing her better.
I cry for her children...
so young to lose a mother.
I cry for her mother...
a child is not supposed
to die first.
I cry for her husband whose soul is torn asunder.
I cry for her grandchildren.

I cry for the grandchildren
I'll likely never have
for the grandparents
I never knew.
Once again, I feel selfish and guilty...
and I cry for this.

At the Reception

I cry for my confusion,
for not knowing
what to say. I cry
for words not spoken and
feelings not expressed. I cry
for the emptiness of words
that *are said. I cry
because I don't know
what else to do.

In hope of a moment's respite
from the anguish
and solitude,
I cling desperately
to anyone who'll let me.

In that moment I feel
her presence
and
rejoice that I knew her...

if only for awhile,