“Come in, take a seat, Mrs. Jones.
Before I go on, let me say
how very sorry I am...
No – you didn’t kill him, Mrs. Jones –
only gave permission his life-support
machine be switched off.
Yes indeed, it is a crying shame we can’t
put the clock back and no –
there wasn’t anything anyone
could have done.
You’re not responsible, Mrs. Jones,
and just remember, your husband
was a good age. Now don’t take on so...
‘Bereavement counselling’, that’s what
this is called. Spurring you along
that long, long road on what we term,
‘The Grief Cycle’.
Mrs. Jones, I know you’re way past
riding a bike; that wasn’t quite the thing
to which I referred...
and no, you don’t have blood on your hands,
nor the doctor who ‘pulled the plug’,
and, yes, point taken, I do accept
there is never a good age for one to die.
You can’t continue living in the past, though;
blaming yourself, or more importantly,
Time to move on now, Mrs. Jones;
to cross the i’s and dot the t’s...
and yes, you’re right...all the talking
in the world won’t keep you warm
on a winter’s night.”