With The Telling Of It

So I start the telling of it,

the death

and the last time,

which I didn't know

was the last one,

to one who hasn't heard it before.

And she receives it from me

welcomes it - 

the telling of it - 

and holds it 

with kitten soft gloves.

So then I can breathe into the cavity of 

my ribs

into the scrying bowl that wasn't

there before

her witness

to my telling of it.

Of the last time 

I touch him,

a kiss

brief

hurried,

because I want to go home.

You look at me

from your lying sideways

on the pillow,

tired

sleepy.

"I love you,

have a wonderful life",

you say, with

your full of sweetness

smile.

I can't remember if I said it - 

how can I not?

But I would have said 

'I love you too'

because I always did.

And I know I said,

'I'll see you tomorrow,

and I'm bringing your sister

and Ian and the children.'

And your face was beaming happy then.

And I leave you

one last time

and I go to  the nurse's office 

and talk to her about the arrangements for tomorrow

and that I'm worried you are slipping sideways in the car seat

and I'm thinking about getting a car that we can adapt for a wheel chair.

And then I walk back down the corridor 

and  stop 

briefly at your open door

and look in at you,

lying on your side

in the bed

with your eyes closed.

And I don't go to you

and kiss you goodbye

one last time.

And I wish I had.

Taken those few steps across the carpet,

and touched your cheek.

bent my head to yours,

instead of longing to go home

to be alone...

not knowing it would be 

a forever alone. 

Because all this was

just hours 

before 

the phone call

the next morning.

But here's the thing

at the end of the telling of it,

I see that what I'm holding on to is 

 my if-only wishes.

They kill me more 

than the real shock

of the phone call

which my body

 is clinging to

for dear life.

So I'm sitting with a new thought

waving the white flag

of surrender

I give up the war in myself of

 what didn't happen

what I didn't do 

what I didn't say

what I wish I had

done 

and

said.

And let my body speak to me of 

the news

not new

but shattering

me 

still.

A moment 

frozen in time.

And to dis-able 

the bullet power 

of that moment

again and again

is something I can do...

with the help

of those 

kitten soft gloves.