He’s gone
A lifetime of 83 years
One last breath
And he’s gone
Absence
Silence
Reminders
And then the pain
With no time to absorb
No time to feel
Only the processes, the needs
Of affairs to be resolved
Dictating an attention
Refusing
Postponing
The grief
And now with only space
And a sudden influx of time
Comes the pain, the tears
For he really is gone
You arrive and greet
This morning of Rakshabandan.
As always, in full bloom
With unequivocal light and love.
This symbolic yellow rose
Stops me in my tracks
As you, brother, embodied
It’s rich depth and warmth.
Saving me from my sorrow
I see how love transverses all.
Physically no longer side by side
Yet our spirits still unite.
Our bond is clear
My brother dear,
As you remain with and between us,
Your loving sisters.
Today is Rakshabandan, the day of celebrating the bond between a brother and sister. The yellow rose is the symbol, my two sisters and I chose, that represents our departed beloved brother, Dipak.
From an unknowing third party, what should the universe send my way today of all days, but a yellow rose surrounded equally by three buds! What an image of our sibling unity!
Oh poppy, you rise to bloom
With petals of royal red
And the deepest dark core
Giving unambiguous symbolism
Signature of reverence
For those never to be forgotten
You embody a pained dignity
In the midst
Of life’s most difficult times
You show me strength
With your inherent form
As you adorn my lapel
You drive me to confront
My challenges
And learn from your qualities
Remembrance:
Painful to embrace
But laced, she is, with deep love
Dignity:
Humanity’s stature
Measured by compassion
Clarity:
The fruit of growth
Despite the desire to revert
Poppy dear,
You’re nature’s gift
As you grace my garden
And bring gratitude to my heart.
Sitting on a bench
Sharing our stories of
George Eliot
The pen named writer
The high school we all attended
The hospital where you were born
Once in the forefront
Then the backdrop
Of our lives
Sitting on a bench
Sharing our stories of
Riversley Road park
With the parading peacock
The pristine bowling green
The wading pool and bandstand
And of course the Museum
Once in the forefront
Then the backdrop
Of our lives
Sitting on bench
Sharing our stories
Outside
Abbey Theater
With new friends in times of need
Old ones re-acquainted
Once in the forefront
Then the backdrop
Of our lives
All these memories were fortunately made
So stories now can be re-told
And I can still cherish you
No matter how quickly
The two years have flown by
Standing in your window.
Looking up,
I see your rainbows
Grey clouds and crows.
Looking down,
Garden flowers
Weeds and dustbins.
Wooden bench you built.
I hear the drift of tunes whistled,
Guitar strummed
Barking dogs
Children running.
Imagining voices heard
With orders barked.
Questions.
Where you are?
What you doing?
How long will you be?
Yet, Intuitive, kindly, you
Made school runs,
Senior drop off
Prescription pick up
Tiffin collections.
Innovative, cleverly
Business partnerships
Rental landlord,
Humble volunteer
Avid charity mogul.
Socially charming
Coffee mate
Beer buddy
Fancy date
Adventurous companion.
Did living and the living
Grate your nerves?
Was it chaotic?
Was it tiresome?
With all the doings
All the beings
Essence was missing, lost.
We are not the sum
Of successes or failures.
Yet one too many of any
And the pot can brew over,
And all is burnt away.
You leave me no choice.
In your memory
I shall love
I shall live
Wild and full.
And my tales
I’ll still tell you,
Be them without FaceTime or text
Be them without laughter between
Our eyes and face.
You’ve left this place
Our home together
Your room,
Once my old room.
How can this be!
Yet it is.
Hoping my reminiscing,
My processing and planning,
My tears and questioning,
Disturbs you not.
Darling brother of mine
Now you are gone,
Please Rest In Peace.
rhythmandthedancer 