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| Our youngest son Adam the year he passed away- the photo was taken at the door of the house we live in now, when it was still his grandparents', |
the one he's walked through many times,
just open it and yell, "I'm home!"
would he recognize the bones of it with
all the changes, nipping, tucking at it until
it's altogether something new? The carpet's
gone, the walls are blue and all the furnishings
are ones he saw but never here, an odd sensation
it might be. It's not the house that troubles me,
of course, but thinking that a puzzled look would sweep
his face because we've changed since last he saw us.
Older, sharper edges when some softening might be
what he'd expect. If given time with him alone,
I could explain the reasons why I'm different -
I can't speak for anybody else - because I always
found it easy to discuss the in's and out's and
up's and down's of life with him. He had, apparently,
an endless store of grace from which to pull,
(are gift in one so young). He never judged,
expecting that the people whom he loved would get
around to doing what was right - they would,
he knew they would, and knew that he could wait
until they did, and if the right was not exactly what
some people thought it was, he'd grin and shake
his head and let you know he understood. He's waiting
still, his vantage point much better (if such watching
is allowed) but there are times I'm almost glad he isn't
here to witness some of what we've had to face, the petty
things, the crushing crises that cannot come even close
to what it felt like when he left, but still, they hurt.
And then I think, how stupid are you, woman?
As if Now would look like this at all,
if we had not had Then.
(c) Ellen Gillette, 2015
<3
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