He left last night
not knowing (I like to think)
It was not his choice
it was
decided for him I tell myself.
He stopped breathing
and the machine was taken
from him.
It's not that he looked comfortable
or happy or proud
in fact the
machinery with all its attachments
with all its needles
he was not happy
he
struggled to breathe to move
in fact he couldnt move.
I lost him before then in
the diagnosis
his eyes looking up
as if he made his way to heaven.
How I love
the sentiments we invent
the creation of a heaven
waiting to welcome the ones we
depend on for love.
No way around it
we don't want you to leave
even if it makes
you comfortable.
You were never a sentimentalist
creating a heaven in your mind
where you could look down on all who loved you as I did.
It was not my choice to
share you with others
but now you have moved
from being the warm arms
I fell
into
the advice to comfort
the face to kiss
the knowledge
rules and connection
like light returning
every morning
the breakfast in bed
supper in the evening
and television shows
now I understand
how much you meant to everyone
you cared
for
after supper
