Marmalade

Marmalade

It was the marmalade that brought you back. Sitting there eating your jam. Jam bought for you.
I remember the morning after. How we drank the coffee you prepared, for the last time ever; and how we gathered your clothes from the floor, the last things you wore.
We put new sheets on the bed. I know we all smelled them, privately, trying to channel you somehow. Putting them in the wash was too final. I couldn’t do it and walked away. Instead I rummaged through your coat pockets, as if I could find a piece of your there.
In the bathroom, I held the container that housed your teeth. Wondering if they were lonely for you, if they realized they were no longer needed. It seemed abrupt to throw them away like they were meaningless, when hours earlier their disappearance would have caused tremendous stress.
The socks in your drawer lay, rolled up for feet that would never wear them. Although I did bring some down to the hospital for you, while we waited for you to be gone. You didn’t like your feet bare, I didn’t think. But the nurse said they weren’t needed. You didn’t feel anything anymore.
I grieve in seconds. Only allowing a few thoughts to come through. I don’t want to drown. I’ve drowned enough. But that damn marmalade. My cheeks were wet, and I still held my toast.
Counting the moments, you flash in my mind. Now’s not the right time for a melt down. It never is. I grieve in seconds.
Anymore would be unbearable.

One Reply to “Marmalade”

  1. You should set up each section on this site to allow comments, and you should have a “contact me” box in the “about” section.

    I like the site. I’m guessing something in the settings is preventing you from posting on other blogs, which sucks.

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