A poem for Aunt Carol

In as much as I remember…
Because it was only…
Some time ago
I thought
Life was recognized
In small places
I discovered it in dirty dishwater
My fate
To be somehow
Just the flashes of thought
In between the dark nesses
The thought that finds its way from
Life
Breath in
Death
Breath out
Somehow the moments
Passed between us
Unnoticed
Aunt Carol was on her death bed
Dying of cancer
She was pale and wan and old
And frail
Death is not an illusion
I thought
Looking into her eyes
She said “ Your grandfather is here, what’s his name?”
“Peter” I said
She looked off into the corner of the hospice
Room, eyes filled with transcendental understanding.
She carried on a conversation with my Grandfather.
Then she reclined deeper into her pillow and spoke softly
“I need water”…
Watching her die reminded me not only of my mortality
But of the courage of simple people when facing the enormity of their own
Certain demise.
When she finally died, a weight turned into an emptiness.
In this garden of words and trees where the woods and thoughts become
Wounded roses, I remember aunt Carol.
Her poetry was flowers and cats and small blessings.
Between this thought and another I find her still with me
Still in whispering conversation with my grandfather.
Still speaking of her life