Archive
11/08/11
Dispositions
After he died, the weeks took months, eternities, to elapse, Without her making any changes to the house, Almost as if his indomitable presence had refused to accept death,
Her husband of nearly sixty-five years Hadn't passed from her life, Into his own invisible existence, beyond 9933 Litzsinger Road . . .
No changes other than the most superficial ones, Which she placed under the category of "tidying up," Such as getting rid of his wheelchair, rented hospital bed, ventilator,
The myriad business file-folders piled high on dressers, His toiletries, two favorite bathrobes, worn-out slippers — His last days' stuff, which was cluttering up their bedroom.
And that suspension remained essentially, tangibly, in place, For a couple of years, until she reconciled her private, silent grief Or decided to keep her tears deeper than her eyes could reach,
And she could begin gradually removing, from his closet, Shoes, dress shirts, and slacks, suits and Countess Mara ties, And, from his drawers, socks, boxer shorts, undershirts, pajamas . . .
Begin asking her five children to choose a few mementos, From his accumulation of personal effects — Trays crowded with trinkets and artifacts meaningful only to him.
And then, the disposition ceased, simply quit. A stasis embraced the house, Cast it in a mellow shadow she could comfortably, peacefully live with, As if time had finally healed the open-endedness of his going, Blessed her lonely spirit With the promise of their future reunion, in a someday not far away.
Now that she's been gone, as of one day shy of one month ago, We five children have the daunting, sorrowful responsibility Of dismantling her seventy-three years of family history,
And what we're finding is that we don't want to alter anything, Rearrange even the slightest space or contour. Dispersing her coats, dresses, sweaters, shoes, jewelry, purses,
Watching the furniture, paintings, photos, books, bibelots disappear, Would be to admit that our father, now our mother, soon our home, Are all on the brink of extinction . . . as if they never existed.
11/08/11
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