our goodbyes

max3.jpg

I went to a service yesterday
a celebration of life
of a life well lived
in imperfection and struggle
he built bridges
so others could cross over troubled water
to meet in agreement
now he
has crossed over a bridge
we remembered who he was to us
some did not speak of it
some spoke very well
and there were tears
there was silent wailing
turning from there
and going on

 

for
max aud
bridge builder

buttermilk clouds

buttermilk.clouds

 

 

he once said outloud
with a strong
sure
voice
“those are buttermilk clouds”

i did not doubt him
for i loved the sound
of the words
that i heard
before

now
his voice is weak
and barely heard
above the sound of the
oxygen machine

now
he is hooked-up
in a solitary way
the food
the tube
entering through skin
into his stomach

no more hunger
now
only death can
release him
from the pain

the thorn
in his side
is breath

 

 

Photo ~  taken just outside of St. Libory, Illinois, on the way back from Indiana. Which was a trip to see the man that told me of buttermilk clouds..  The grandfather of my daughters and my ex-husband’s father. May 2, 2016.

Nancy