the priest incenses the casket

and whatever steely resolve I possessed,

crumbles.

*

at the cemetery,

a light drizzle mists the air.

my son takes his place with the other

pallbearers, grasps a handle

and carries Mom to join Daddy

in the rain-soaked earth.

*

scalloped potatoes & ham, buttered buns.

everyone raves about the green beans,

of all things.

*

tears, hugs, a few photos.

promises to keep in touch.

then, it’s over. done.

families return to their vehicles,

gear up for the long drives home.

*

the following morning,

the sun, she be shining, scattered clouds

in a pale blue sky.

unbearable heat & humidity, again, today.

unpacking and loads of laundry to cycle through.

I eye the backyard, wet with dew.

definitely need to mow tonight.

*

six daughters, now unofficially orphaned.

our new normal begins today.