Dreams of Death

pondering the inevitable

In the dark of  night

The silence of a cool marble tomb

Would be comforting

 

When Mother died 10 years ago

Didn’t think about it much

Didn’t even cry

Always my indifference about death

 

At the age of four

Considered death for the first time

The evening news

Saw a brief movie

Test of a new guided missile

Sought the destruction of a building

 

What would happen to me

If I were in the building?

Non existence would result

 

So what was non-existence?

No thought?

No words?

Just a void

 

It began to stick in the back of my mind

Hunted me everywhere

At the age of 15

Desired to be a funeral director

Believed I could give solace to the bereaved

Thought for some reason

I knew something about death

 

Went to my first wake

Death of Uncle Johnny

Room full of relatives

Nana stood before the opened coffin

Kissed him

Talked to him in tender Spanish words

I had never seen a corpse before

Cold motionless dead

 

 

Then Aunt Hazel

The last funeral I attended

15

Knew about embalming and cosmetology

By then

Could see the incisions on her wrists

To remove her precious blood

The way Uncle Harold stood

Looking down like some angel

With a large beer gut

Bracing himself on the box

Crying

A wreath of flowers on the stand

With a ribbon that read

To my Honey Girl

Haven’t attended another for 45 years

They are for the living

Not for me

Perhaps I am already dead

 

Then Mother

Went to see her in the hospital

Day before it ended

Why did she suddenly turn Chinese?

Slanted eyes

Barely open

Didn’t speak

Gripped my hand

With an icy claw

 

I celebrated her passing

With her voice

My words and thoughts

 

Had lunch with relatives

When the martini glass

Flew out of the ice

Landed base down on the bar

I said, “Guess Mom wants a drink…”