Ripe Old Age - Jan 17 2024

 

Ripe Old Age

Jan 17 2024

In the chapel

the size of a small auditorium

rows of nicely padded chairs

faced front.

Formal clothes

   —   black haberdashery,

   modest dresses,

   lilies in their lapels  —

but also a few quilted winter jackets

scattered toward the back;

as if the mourners

were ready to make a dash for it,

like beating the traffic

at the big game.

But there was no crowd.

And in a room that large

the sprinkling of people

seemed a little sad.

But this is what happens

when you pass away

at such a ripe old age:

friends have already died,

your spouse is gone,

and what close relations remain

may be too far away

to make it in time.

So an intimate gathering

to say farewell

and celebrate a life.

Which still seems wrong to me.

Because she had such a circle of friends,

valued relationship,

was good at keeping in touch.

She was tight with them,

and now the last

is gone as well.

I said “ripe”.

Like fruit, left on the tree too long

that falls in fertile soil,

spreading its seeds

and sending down roots.

So just as the sparse crowd seemed wanting,

there's not much to see

at least for now.

But in the fullness of time

fallen fruit will sprout

flower

flourish,

living on

through its progeny.

As will she;

as mother and matriarch

and then in memory,

the legacy

of a life well-lived.