It has been a few weeks.
Since she was lost.
The house is more often quiet now.
The buzz of endless visitors, all searching for the right words.
Like there are any that can be said. There are none.
Deliveries of flowers, pots of tea, the sound of quiet sobbing.
The silence has settled in now, both welcome and terrifying.
They have eaten, a little, since that day.
Food has flowed like a river to their door.
From the kitchens of those who love them, those who loved her.
Desperate to offer some tiny morsel of comfort. There is none.
It's quiet now.
Casserole dishes scrubbed clean and returned.
It's the human way, it seems.
The busyness of death and in the after, the quiet, the solitude.
She was a cook. Oh my she was a cook.
Their lives full of the delights she cooked for them.
Her way of nurturing, of loving, of being.
He opens the freezer.
Already knowing what's inside.
The plastic container, frosted over.
It's like it stares back at him, unblinking.
The pain of this, for him, is almost unbearable.
He heats the food and it comes to life.
Spice and love all mixed together.
It's the last one. The last meal she will ever cook for him.
Forever.
The sound of quiet sobbing.
*This post is inspired and imagined by recent events in the life of someone I know well. Remembering you always D.
So very sad - and so beautifully expressed. When you said they lived close to me, I didn't realise it was at the end of the street - I've watched their renovation, the painting of the original house et al. And now seen the very sad little notes on the front door and the side gate.
ReplyDeleteLove to all,
Sarah xx
Just beautiful Suz, sad and beautiful xxx
ReplyDeleteSorry that I've been so long in commenting... such a beautiful poem with such a sad story. Love to you always xoxo
ReplyDeleteTruly beautiful. You have such a lovely gift with words.
ReplyDeleteHeartbreaking but beautiful post, Suz. I could relate to so much of this. There is a huge thud back to earth after a funeral, and this is often when the real grief work starts.
ReplyDeleteI have been thinking of this family so much. I don't know that I will ever forget about their story and that day.
xo
Beautiful words. The strange persistence of inanimate objects, such as the plastic container, that can nearly bring you to your knees after a bereavement. And yes, there often is a thud back to reality after a funeral. So sad.
ReplyDeleteThis broke my heart.
ReplyDeletex
Sobbing here too.
ReplyDeleteAwesome poem.
ReplyDelete