your teapot is on my bedside table and suddenly, I am remembering the pistachios in the basement how they made you laugh when you barely had the strength to lift an arm or take a sip of water, but you didn't understand why anything would be kept underground least of all a pistachio especially not in Brooklyn you had barely eaten in days but you took a bite of the rhubarb cake that I carried with me on the Amtrak turning to me with that face you loved to make the one that is still so distinctly yours blue eyes wide open, mouth closed tight saying only one word which was more than enough for me there is so much that I did not tell you, then because we had nothing but time months and years to say our goodbyes but with your hand holding on to mine the ages of our skin pressed against each other those years quickly turned into hours, minutes and I forget to mention how my garden is growing I didn't think about the apple tree or the book I want to write someday, dedicated to you instead, I sat there knitting a dishtowel watching the Golden Girls as you dozed in and out of this life and whatever comes next you asked to see my hat whenever it was finished and I agreed though I have never made a hat and we both knew that it would not be done in time in the end, we were alone surrounded by silence except for your snoring and my crying and it took all of my strength to let go, to wake you feeling your fingers slip away as I said I have to go now and you told me it is okay you're okay, and I am too so I kissed your forehead telling you that I loved you just barely hearing you repeat it back before you closed your eyes saying you were just going to rest I find it is difficult, now to write anything, to say anything knowing that you are not here my most dedicated reader and so I am tired, and aching pouring all of my energy into simply staying standing trying to keep moving forward, or onward because there is nowhere else to go I am frozen and trapped and somehow more expansive than ever before, opening myself up to the idea of tenderness exploring new boundaries solidifying good habits I am happy, smiling, laughing loving hard, just the way you taught me and still, I am hurting my heart is ripping itself into a million tiny pieces with every breath I take I am stiff and tense and scattered putting on brave faces to make it through each day while my pains are growing my wings are spreading and what a beautifully tormenting thing it is how a caterpillar can manage to become a monarch how grief can feel like a flower and a dagger all at once it is almost two months later when I find myself holding the cookbook containing the instructions for your favorite pecan pie the page is torn and covered with sugar from an eternity of use bookmarked with my address, barely legible scrawled onto a recipe card that you no longer need and your handwriting stings fresh reminding me that it is too late, now for these words to reach you but even still, I hardly have the heart to say that rhubarb is not in season, anymore though the nectarines this year are perfect which forces me to think about the ways that days and hours years and lifetimes and seasons pass fleeting, always, filled with memories dying to be caught
Written in loving memory of my sweet friend Judy, who will forever be my favorite audience. Thank you for so many years of love and support. I would not be who I am today without you.
More than beautiful- a real day in the life that lasts for years.