Still missing her

The third year is now slowly passing,
Since pallbearers carried her to the grave.
But her memory has not departed,
It’s just something I cherish and save.

I visit her resting place often,
On her headstone an orchid I place.
The cold granite contradictive to memory
Of the warm smile forever on her face.

Years ago she had picked the headstone,
Two hearts that were joined as one.
Though others would think it macabre,
She actually thought it was fun.

She designed in her mind the wording
Of the inscription to be chiselled in stone.
Each time I stand now and read it,
Though years pass, I feel not alone.

It is not the usual protocol
For her to be laid to rest on the right.
But that was exactly her wishes,
So positioned we slept every night.

For 52 years we were together,
Sleeping each night, head beside head.
It’s little wonder why I now find it lonely,
Sleeping single in a broad double bed.

I find it lonely, too, now at Christmas,
It was a season dear to our hearts.
It was a time of apple pies and candy,
Homemade fudge and butter tarts.

Her convictions were strong on religion,
And Christ’s birthday was parcel and part.
To delete it and the forward word Merry
Is contradictive to her from the start.

She was an exceptional, kind-hearted person
Not found often in the world’s human race.
Hunger still in my heart for her tells me
No one other could fulfill her place.

And once again Christmas is coming,
In the year two, double O, and nine.
I know she and our two boys will be waiting
For me to come, too, when it’s time.

There are moments when I often feel guilty
For not missing her as much as I should.
But she taught me well to look after myself,
What she taught me was really good.

She focused always on the positive,
Never on the negatives of life.
In the whole wide world I’m the luckiest,
Having had a woman such as she, my wife.

Now I could go on writing poetry,
Memories of her with her life loving charm.
But I know my Little Lady will be happy,
Knowing I’ll spend Christmas at our son’s family farm.

* * *
Let me wish each and all, you and yours, (to hell with happy holidays) a very Merry Christmas.
And may God see fit to have fate, fame or fortune flit through your life with sufficient momentum in the coming year, to make you appreciate the overly good life that we have enjoyed here in Canada.
Take care, ‘cause we care.

Barrie Hopkins