I went with my friend to pick out a casket for her husband.
His doctor was a jerk but no one asked me so I didn't say a thing.
It was too bad though, because he was a real nice guy.
The funeral for my friend's husband was on a sunny day.
His daughter sat among the other mourners and she let out a cry
that rent the air. She didn't care but my friend was embarrassed.
The rabbi said nice things about him and I thought that was odd.
He didn't know the husband because in ten years he'd gone
to temple only once or twice but who badmouths the dead.
Then I went to the reception. There was a ton of food.
It was pretty noisy. I kept looking all over for the host
forgetting that he had been already several hours in
The daughter sat on the stairs and looked down on the party.
Her eyes were red. A damp hankie was balled up in her hands.
She was the only one not having fun, the only one who got it.
I went home and thought about the cordial get together.
I'd been to parties at their house before and enjoyed them.
the only different thing today was,
one person wasn't there.
I'm an old woman who lives in Maine with a husband
and three dogs. I've been writing poetry for many years but haven't, until
now, thought to publish it. My life has had most of the ups and downs
that most people experience, and the bravest thing I've done is to survive
for so long. If one is very lucky, life, like wine, improves with aging.