I’m never not going to miss you.
But it’s no longer heavy; I have the lightness
to run, to travel, to meet new neighbors.
It doesn’t feel like nothing else
is important, or joyful. There is making music,
and cooking tasty (meatless) meals,
and loving the people around me
like you did.
I don’t dread Thanksgiving, because
my gratitude is deep. I’m thankful for family,
content to sit with them eating food I don’t love,
telling stories that seem to signify little,
where before I would have been restless, unsatisfied.
I still think about you every time I drive west on the Beltway
towards Bethesda.
And every time we sing of resurrection, I sing
to your rising.
Every piano suite I play is somehow for you,
not to make up for all the songs I couldn’t remember
how to play for you and Mr. Baer at the end,
but because life is rich with the
food of music,
and you are still alive and part
of its music.
No comments:
Post a Comment