What+Breaks+Her

What Breaks Her
She walks inside looks around with new eyes sighs cards piled on table flowers wilting heavy blue glass vase algaed water long-forgotten dishes tossed aside in a hurry smell like rot and decay and death. Of course.

With heavy feet she walks through cluttered dining room down empty hall shorts tossed on chair past white bathroom towels on floor to bedroom to pick up clothes hang up hangers strip bed stare at pictures get lost in a memory or four – no more.

With a start she jolts back to now to nothing to silence alone.

She shuffles back tired now heavy heart heavy breath empty chair rumpled rug reading glasses still there. Who will eat those dang peanuts?

With a start she knows that someone will sit in his chair. Who would dare? Surely none She sighs but no weeping – no more.

She moves along putting shoes in boxes to put in the garage to take away get rid of pieces of him of her of them - no more.

Chair cleaned rug straightened glasses boxed peanuts tossed.

She moves slowly steadily sadly. Strongly, though. She’ll do what needs to be done.

It’s the toothbrush that breaks her A lonely symbol asking nothing nothing at all but to be the last the smallest memory of his touch - no more.

Crying comes without invitation as she trembles she weeps she puts away pieces of him of them and picks up pieces of her

just her.

Mode - free verse poem Media - computer Audience - Grandma, but she'll never read it, so general readers Purpose - I want Grandma to know that I am thinking of her. I wish I could talk to her but I can't in person, so this is my way of "talking" to her and also finding closure for myself. Situation - This was sparked from the taboo topics brought up by Ashley. It was just some rambling at first, then I overheard my husband talking to his mom on the phone about how he'd noticed that Grandpa's toothbrush was missing, and how hard it must have been to throw that away. It made me think about the little things that would creep up on us when a loved one is gone.