His Grief

He was numb, then.
A week had gone by –
yet dazed and shocked
he had hoped
it all to be a horrible dream –
repressing the scream
of pain and anguish.

The urn was delivered at four
in the afternoon.
It was tea-time –
biscuits on her favourite plate.
“Darling, you need to fix
the grater.”
Grated: his life.
The waves
crashing
brought him back to
where he stood
at the beach
empty and desolate.

He clasped the golden urn:
Memories too deep for tears
flooding before him.
He remembered all:
Introduced by an acquaintance –
how many – forty years back.

His Grief

The theatre at Broadway
Wedding at the Bell-Air
in June.
The hunt for the school
(For Matt and Beth)
And how they once forgot
to pick up Matt from school –
the biggest fight they fought.

All flashed before him
What arrested and haunted him:
the diagnosis
the care
the frustration, the fights
in despair
the refusal to accept
the resignation
in the visitor’s lounge
his son and daughter witnessed.

She knew he pretended to be strong
before her: but after her?
Sure, Matt and Beth would be there.
But he would never be the same.
A vain attempt
to come to grips with
the situation
for the other.
as the dreaded day drew nearer.

His Grief

The final arrangements were done
for the funeral.
The funeral flowers;
the sympathy flowers:
the smell of death.

Amidst all the grief,
and religious belief;
he set his heart
on that final wish
that she believed
would be a fresh start.

“Scatter me on the beach
right before our home.
That way you can be sure
I will never leave you all
alone.”