October 19

Carole, we awoke together his morning at 6 AM, as if a clock mattered. You were helping me straighten the tablecloth, a cranberry-rust color. All the leaves to Nana’s table were in, a long rectangle as if getting ready for a party, our family, who else? You sat under the repro Matisse painting, in that spot of the room, and had a dark short sleeve top on, probably with shorts along with that beatific smile of yours. I’d pitched some bagel pieces along with an old bag of bread rolls from the fridge and was setting fresh ones, a dozen or two I’d just bought, hard crust rolls sprinkled with poppy seeds. It was so joyous ordinary and at first I was happy then thought, of course you'd come today — it is your yahrzeit — 8 years since you died, and I cried and cried. It is stupendous that you came today, if only the tears would stop.