When I die…
(original poem)
~
When it is my last night
I believe I will know.
I would catalog the keepsakes,
label the photos I wanted my
children to understand,
And realizing the hours’ inability,
strew them across the house
and curl into the fetal position on
the living room rug with my babies.
And eventually, knowing there was
no time, I’d abandon the
meant-to-dos and forget-me-nots and
hold my children in the
wreckage of my memories.
I would go to Facebook and update:
“Thanks for the ride, guys.
I’ve loved you every minute.”
I would sing a few Jackson Browne songs
into my digital recorder and
hide it far and deep for
a later day without me in it.
I would take off my wedding ring and
bury it in my husband’s sock drawer
with a simple note: “It was never about
the ring. I have loved you truly.
You have my permission, when the time comes.”
I would set the table, because
who can cook pancakes through tears,
and lie down in my favorite silk pajamas.
I would stare at the ceiling,
kiss the air,
and pray to be wrong.
And I’d wait.
.
(Image credit: photo by Jean Carneiro.)
Smiling, crying, who knows what to do? It’s beautiful.
Thanks for reading. Maybe the answer is all of the above. 🙂
Love this……particularly about leaving notes and mementos….but setting people free.
Huh. Freedom. I didn’t think of it that way. What a stunning, beautiful thought.