the unmade bed

two things still bother me
almost 17 years later
 
 
after we’d finally wrenched
ourselves away
knowing you would never
smile that radiant smile again

we did what everyone
has always done
when they don’t know
what to do

we went in search of food
and the bubbly breakfast waitress
evoked something strange in me

“my mom just died” i blurted out
abruptly, without emotion
my mom, my best friend
who i would never see again
 
 
i always made my bed those days
every day, no matter what
rain or shine, late or early

but i didn’t make my bed that day
the day of your funeral

and after the condolence food
several guests made their way
up the stairs, into my room

there was chatter
there was laughter
i couldn’t really comprehend either

all i could pay attention to
was that damn unmade bed

gone forever, you were dead
and i could only focus
on the unmade bed
 
 

 
 
*******
 
 
there is sadness, there is laughter
there is struggle, there is triumph

there is also a healing haven
that allows and welcomes
all that life brings

my italian retreat
 

 
 
 
 

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