the unmade bed
two things still bother me almost 17 years later after we'd finally wrenched ourselves away knowing you would never smile that radiant smile again
we did what everyone has always done when they don't know what to do
we went in search of food and the bubbly breakfast waitress evoked something strange in me
"my mom just died" i blurted out abruptly, without emotion my mom, my best friend who i would never see again i always made my bed those days every day, no matter what rain or shine, late or early
but i didn't make my bed that day the day of your funeral
and after the condolence food several guests made their way up the stairs, into my room
there was chatter there was laughter i couldn't really comprehend either
all i could pay attention to was that damn unmade bed
gone forever, you were dead and i could only focus on the unmade bed
******* there is sadness, there is laughter there is struggle, there is triumph
there is also a healing haven that allows and welcomes all that life brings
