Talking to the Toilet

I gave them your favorite jacket.  The one
you were going to wear skiing.  That
hideous orange thing I teased you for.
I gave it to them to give to you.

Kate wrote out lyrics
To what is now her
favorite song: “You Are My Sunshine.”

Jack took your albums
And copied out every single line
To every single song.

They’re in the pockets
Of your ugly jacket
To which I am growing so fond.

I figured you could entertain Grandma with a guitar
Since you’ll be seeing her,
But I knew such a thing would never fit
Into your new “home.”

I stood in front of you saying all these things
While everyone was watching
Hoping to see a tear.
But I had been so strong.
I’d cried so little. 
But with each tear dropped came one more hug.
One more hug to make me cry.  Again.

So I turned away from your coffin
And walked away. 
First thing seen: the bathroom.
In a bathroom stall, I said what couldn’t be said to your coffin.

I said I love you and will always miss you.
I said all the things I’ll never stop saying
All the things I need to keep saying.

All of this I did say to a toilet.
And all of this I still say to a jar of ashes
Which sits beside my side of the bed,
While the other side is.
Just is.