Three Weeps Ago

Three Weeps Ago

Three weeks ago, you were no longer around,
still alive as the hospice put you down,
moaning, but we hoped you went pain-free
and I refused to believe it could really be.

But I felt you enter the other realm—
the hospice drug-lady at the helm.

Your children flew in to say their goodbyes,
but you left them with so much to say.
But we remembered how you would always surmise,
that the dead would learn all on their judgment day.

Then came the riding, the long ride home,
and the sudden siege of normality,
the times I found myself alone,
empty, thought wrought with mortality.

Surmising you have learned of my infirmity,
I become aware that you are also aware,
of the music I have always wanted to share,
and the poem called me, indefinitely.

The nuts that I’ve since come to know,
would say that maybe I should let you go.

And then Mom drove through morris illinois,
and checked to see if you were still at Brandts,
while I reached for my phone, to you annoy,
'bout the latest raves and their hypocritical rants—

and you weren’t there.