Seven years (Coronach)

Word of the day: Coronach

In four days time it'll be seven long years since you passed

Waking me up at a quarter to midnight on the last Sunday of the month

To tell me you couldn't breathe and it didn't take long for you to take your final breath

And then that was it, you were dead

This is selfish, I know, but what I hated the most about your death

Besides your sudden absence from my life after having you by my side

Since the day I was born

Was the way everyone expected me to be strong

I'd just lost you and it felt like my world was collapsing around me

And people told me that I would get through it because

I'd had that final day with you, unlike grandkids who, by choice,

Had moved to countries that were oceans away from you

And I looked at that wooden casket you were in, closed, so I never had to see

What you looked like when you were no longer alive

And later, you were smoke and ashes, dust

Surrounded by people, I watched you go, never having felt so alone in my life

And now, seven long years later, I still want you here

Talk to the photograph we have of you in the living room

I tell you things and sometimes, let myself cry

Whisper that I wish I could join you in the afterlife