Death Makes Us Small

You left the world last night
Sudden as the flick of a switch
I saw the moment you surrendered
And everything, everything shrunk-

Eighty-eight years of life, minus three days
Condensed into tiny, meaningless traces-
The wedding ring they took from your cold finger,
The nightgown they threw away.

When they began to speak of you in past tense
You became an object
Because condensing death into small words
Is an imperfect art.

And my sorrow at the things you would never see
My first week at uni, my wedding, my children
Wells up and spills over in hot drops
Of salt water, so small.

Wordless, we went to the room with blank walls
Where you lay, shrunken, still.
When I glanced away I was sure I saw you moving.
In truth you were smaller than the child
You had bounced on your knee, a lifetime ago.
Touching your hand; the fingers so like mine
Still held some tiny warmth.

Now we gather ourselves together
Don bright smiles, adopt brisk voices
Turn to petty verbose necessities
The unsentimental residue of death

The little things are the things which still make my eyes fill-
The birthday gifts never to be opened,
The trinkets I gave you now meaningless.
The only thing that does not shrink
Is the void
Echoing, aching, no matter how you call-
And the tiny house which now seems a dusty fortress.

With the cushions still dented,
The bedsheets creased,
How could I just accept?
You have only gone for an instant, an hour, an afternoon-
While they murmured, making each other strong,
I made the smallest tribute to you,
Your favourite song 'The Rose', pianissimo
On the sweet untuned keys.

Your life had been shrinking for months,
Your world became a tiny inner sphere
Working on its own minute axis
A safe, musty-scented sanctum from cold, cruel reality
Where I could always rest a weary head.
I must remember you as you were-
Strong, vivacious, beaming in monochrome
Anchor, friend, wife, mother, grandmother
And not turn my mind to your 'now',
Your shrinking, your passing, your dissolving into dust.

Death makes us small.

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Rosa 18/07/1922-15/07/2010
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