(Jesus, as recorded in Matthew 5:4a)
The difficulty is not in mortality,
for death was a welcome guest.
We had made so many preparations
And we were as prepared as we could be.
Anticipation was arduous.
Death arrived late,
for the party had been going quite some time.
Nevertheless, death crept in, celebrated and then settled in.
Death didn’t just come and then take leave.
Death moved in, as if the signatory on our lease.
Of course, everyone thinks they know Death.
Some see Death regularly,
Others avoid any contact.
Some have an intimate relationship,
others prefer to meet in groups.
Plenty of people came to visit,
variously attending to our guest
Or avoided mentioning the Presence.
What I was less prepared for were Death’s companions:
Separation and Grief.
I had known other sides of them before,
But now they have moved in and make a home here.
They pretend to be house trained,
but they interrupt constantly,
Demanding attention and energy, even in the middle of the night,
Or inside a word or an activity.
I think Grief likes to go out and hang with other people too,
but Separation is more of an introvert,
preferring to sit and stare at me across the room,
as if measuring distances and times
and gaps in memories.
Some kindly souls invite Grief
to companion me to dinner or outings.
They welcome Grief’s attendance and make welcome.
Separation is different.
People are looking for Loneliness or Longing
and look right past Separation,
as if invisibility cloaked
the cocoon that now surrounds me.
Widowhood is like a cocoon, or a prayer quilt,
Wrapping around this entombed life,
Holding the broken pieces in a place and a time,
Separated from the swirling entrance
to that black hole
where future hopes disappear
and are lost.
The enormity of Separation can be overwhelming,
so I sit with strange companions,
Strangely comforted as tears keep flowing...
I guess ears are a sign of Life.
(c) A A Koh-Butler, 2020
