What is it you would like to say?
 Say it, for this is the world’s end.

A poem about death shortly after the anniversary of losing my wife's closest friend.

How could I worry about me?

I am now struck— Struck by how much I loved her, And how through all the years, I never once said, I love you.

I laughed with her. Supped with her. Took her cookies. Listened to her. Suffered next to her. Dreamed of her.

But—like my flesh and blood, I took her for granted— This woman who gathered me in, Through three decades and five, Sometimes as son, Sometimes as brother, Sometimes as a wise one.

—

Now, it's 3:30 a.m., Adrift in the emptiness of a parking lot 
I hear the distant whistle Of a night train crying Through the wind.


The clack-clack-clack Rolling in the dark Carries me back Where these sounds once Wove themselves into her walls.

Vibrations signaling I was trapped— Not in fear, But in refuge Walled from a worried world For just a few minutes more.

How I wish now— I wish I could be trapped one more time, Just for those moments. Not long— Just long enough to say:

Thank you.

I love you.

#poetry #death #confession #storytelling #write #100daystooffload

2025-04-26 09:39:17

Siri kept pinging me. 5:01 AM – “Siri, stop.” 5:03 AM – “Siri, stop.” 5:05 AM – “Siri, STOP.” 5:07 AM – “SIRI... wait,” I thought. That's not the alarm—that's the doorbell.

I checked the time; it was ridiculously early.

“Shit, someone died.” I thought.

There were only two potential circumstances that would drive someone to my house at that time of day and ring incessantly. Both related to my wife.

Sadly, it was her sister. 62. Cancer. Hell.

This is the closest to home for either of us in our 33 years together. Grandparents and friends, yes. But this was the first one that is in that inner circle. She was the kind of person that we could call and say, 'hey, we're going on vacation, want to come?' and she would take off work, say bye to her family and ride around with us for a week.

She was my wife's best friend. I know, I know, I'm her husband I AM her best friend. But, there is a bond between sisters that even a husband can't replace. She was her running buddy. 'Let's get in the streets!' my sister-in-law would sometimes call and say to my wife and out they would go. Coffee, the bookstore, just driving around and talking trash about everyone. Or delivering small kindnesses.

Anne was her name. Anne was the grease between her sometimes difficult children and the rest of a very tight-knit family. Hispanics are like that, close. Not like white people. We love each other but for the most part are happy to come and go and just touch base. At least my family is like that. But not hispanic culture. Nope. You'd better be a regular participant or there'll be trouble.

Thankfully, my wife has a second sister. The baby of the family. Now they'll have to forge a new kind of relationship without Anne.

And, we'll have to find a new way forward without that critical personality being there for us.

Heroes give. Villains take.

This world is villainous. Absolutely crooked.

I wrote of this previously.

#essay #confession #death