I desperately miss you…
Putting ice cubes in the cats’ water throughout the day, Killing bugs by drowning them in windex, sending around your library aides with water for the teachers
Having me put the toilet paper on the holder, take spiders outside, do the math, fold up the grocery bags. open up the grocery bags because you were afraid bugs were hiding.
And recalling anew, Myphyllis…
Reading agatha christie, amidst a bruins game in the garden or a theater show you didn’t like, and reading the end first.
Doing your fake coughing fit or fainting or wearing your illness mask or piling up stuff or just getting angry when someone would try to sit in the empty airline seat you liked to have between us.
Having me take the antenna and eyes off the lobster before we ate, so he wouldn’t see you eating.
Awakening me at 2 am, because I was mean to you in a dream or jeanne bice just said something “hilarious” on qvc or you saw a bug in the kitchen.
Forty years of the financials, cars, cats, shopping, cleaning, laundry, dishes, and taking offense if we tried to do anything without you. Except cooking.
Your coupon box; lusty voice; oversized glasses; funny knees; accent, spinach pie; cuckahyodees curse; limp; omnipresent heavyweight canvas bag’o’books; answering the phone, “what’s the matter?”; ‘singing’ along; feigned disinterest in maury and jerry; knowing everyone’s name in the neighborhood, stores, offices; thanksgiving dinner the day after thanksgiving dinner; always damn-the-consequences speaking up; writing the names on unfinished water bottles; running out the last piece of trash to the garbagemen; talking to the cats; reading aloud to the special ed kids.
Somehow keeping in touch with nearly everybody you ever met
And your stunning beauty, perpetual innocence, raucous laugh, incomparable mothering, nonexistent ego, everpresent affability, that impassioned eloquence in front of an audience, and the inimitable empathy, whether a bullied kid or a stranger with a like cancer.
We were suppose to grow old together. I’d give my life to hold your hand once more. Really. I actually cry every damn time I watch the love scenes in the disney cartoons; tarzan and jane with phinnie or the prince and ariel, anna and kristoff, or beauty and the beast with paige. I try to hide it and feel like an fucking idiot, but it’s uncontrollable. God damn cinderella; “No matter how your heart is grieving, if you keep on believing, the dreams that you wish will come true.”
Well, I do not believe any more, but every night I still ask to see you again.