How does one say good bye?
How does one relinquish the warm hands that carried you over troubled waters,
that gently wiped salty spray from crying eyes,
or warmed suppers to fill an empty belly and warm an aching heart.
I don't know.
I know that I will be glad when she is no longer in that restrictive body,
yet the warm memories of my Bonny,
come rushing to the surface,
filling me with a nostalgic longing.The melodic cadence of Italian flowing in a stream of sweet nothings
peppered with injunctions to "eat", to "have courage", to "love",
won't follow my sons down the driveway or greet them crossing thresholds.
I don't know how to make her Italian roasts,
her greasy breakfasts,
her meringue pies.
I don't know her prayers
or even her deepest hopes.
I know only that she loved me,
utterly and completely,
and she is leaving
and I am sad.