I tell myself I need
to take baby steps
beginning with his shoes.
Plastic bag in hand I enter the closet
where nothing has been touched
since ...
Shelves
hold flap-jack stacks of shirts
separated into "work" and "dress".
I once told him that his graphic tees
were more suitable for a teenager
than for a grandpa.
He once told me
that a grandma shouldn't worry
about what other people think.
The closet carries his scent:
a blend of Irish Spring soap,
sawdust, and perspiration
imbedded into his ball caps.
I once buried my nose
so deeply into his neck
that the scent of him
became incense in my soul.
I am transported back to the moment,
stopped in my tracks,
when I sensed that his unique scent
had been replaced by the scent of death.
Not slowly and subtly
but cruelly and rapidly
as he slipped from my life.
Blinking eyes
give way
to gut-sobs
punctuated only by the sound
of shoes
as I drop them
one pair at a time
into the plastic bag.
Obstacles, Choices, Resiliency, Peace
Luann: First of all I'm so sorry for the loss of your life partner. I can only imagine how difficult that would be! I do have to tell you that very few poems have transported me to a scene...
Baby Steps
Published by Family Friend Poems March 1, 2024 with permission of the Author.
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