the car in front of you

     Like the habit of people that play numbers after someone dies – they’ll play their birthday, the day they died, their hospital room, their daily double, their favorite numbers.  It doesn’t matter.  Numbers that have deep meaning start showing up all over the place.  My mother and I were riding in the car behind the hearse with my father.  A bookie’s wife would notice the license plate on the hearse.  My mom did. Too bad she didn’t play his hospital room number. That’s what came out the day of the funeral.  And all of his bookie friends hit on that one.

     You might look for signs of them after they died.  Something to show you they’re still around. But really, you don’t have to look at all.  Suddenly, the world is full of symbols and everything is infused with meaning.  Could this have something to do with time disappearing?  Without the rush of time, once again, we can have meaning.

     Everything reminded me of my mother when she died.  When my brother Jerry died everything reminded me of him.  Same with my sister.  Time disappears, meaning emerges and the world becomes infused with memories.  Everything held a memory, and my sense of connection with them felt strong, maybe more tender at times, than I felt when they were alive. 

     Does this mean that everything was infused with their soul?  Even my apricot colored studio, my desk and the small dishes filled with stones, beads, tiny machine parts and the springs from close pins.  Haven’t you heard that the soul stays around for a while?  Proof of the soul exists, if you want it.  Simply weigh someone before and after they died.  (Simply weigh someone before and after they died?) The body is lighter after death. I’ve heard all kinds of figures from a few ounces on up to a pound.  The difference is the soul.  Their soul touches everything around you.

~

The day after my sister died, my niece asked me, “Did everything stop?”  Time is so weird.  Dali’s melting clocks have nothing on this shape-shifting, time taffy my sister caused. Nothing compares to that one. 

~

Moments without time.

The air feels empty. 

the wild blue poem series, from the first section on grief. the entire book is available through Amazon Kindle at:  https://www.amazon.com/dp/B00E2UU19O