I am home again. From the moment I walked through the door I knew that I should have never left. I needed to be here to be close to my memories and to be able to come to a new intersection in my life. I wonder when that may be. I feel stuck between the stages of grief that are on this journey of mine that seems long and for now I do not know where the end shall be.
Two thousand sixty hours ago I gave you my last kiss
That lingers on your smooth, soft cheek in my memory.
They swaddled you so gently in a handmade quilt and moved to the door,
to take you down the porch stairs and disappear within the blackness of the night.
The kiss in the memory returns to me as I stand closed eyed in the same spot,
I see your little face tipped to the right, your white soft curls frame your face.
The hours since then pass slowly and every eight hundred hours I stop and know,
It is again the anniversary of that time, the time the Angel came to take you on your way.
I see you and remember you everywhere I go, but mostly I see you at home.
Here, your smile, your little hand, the memory of the yellow dress you wore are here with me.
The memories I have both calm the world around me and bring you,
your endless love, sunshine and strength back to mel
Your picture and red roses are on the little red table by the big chair,
they are my sentinels guarding the place and memory of your last moment.
I reach out for you as always, I touch your picture to feel you again and then
I know if I linger too long the moment will cut like a dagger into my heart.
I gesture a kiss toward you and hug the picture just prior to setting it back down,
when suddenly I stop and pick up the little package holding the curls of your hair.
Soft, white and as I tenderly touch them I know you are here for this time,
and I need not fear the moment will stab my heart to tears, for now you will let me smile.