Tag Archives: cancer

“Don’t Worry, Albert.”

Took care of my wife
for ten years
as cancer slowly
took her away
from me.

“Don’t worry, Albert.
It always rains
on a sunny day,
doesn’t it?”

She’d always say.

Two years alone
after she passed
I moved far away
to start again.

It was either that
or put a gun
to my head.

But everywhere I looked
I still saw
a reminder of her
in every woman
in every child.

I worked
then I wandered the streets.
Trying to live.
Trying to cry.
Trying to die.

And one day
I saw her
leaving a laundromat,
laughing.

It was her
but it wasn’t
because it
couldn’t be

but there she was.

I walked up to her
and stared
like an idiot.

Asked if I could
walk with her.

She looked at me
strange.
I didn’t blame her
but she acquiesced.

That was when
on a blue sky
it opened up
with rain singing across
all the streets
in the sunlight.

She laughed and she
looked at me with that
gorgeous smile
that always
broke through me
like I was air
then she took my hand.

“Don’t worry, Albert.”
she said.

“It always rains
on a sunny day
doesn’t it?”

Mom’s Not Going To Be Around Forever

She sounded good today
strong
vibrant in spirit
not like last time when she was weak
distant
sick.

Sometimes you don’t think that she’s going to
get any better

You called her from work
because you had so many things to do and
places to go after just like
every damn day
so you wanted to make sure that at least
you called
you made the effort.

But you’re miles behind on work.
You can’t stay on the phone
for too long you have a meeting and
a list of lists to accomplish.

You just wanted to say high but once you
have her on
she sounds so happy
she’ll talk about everything in her day
-the doctors, the medicine, the treatment, the cats.

You start to feel rushed because you have to go
and she can go on and on about everything.

But what else is she going to do?
Who else can she talk to and how often do you really speak to her?
She just wanted to hear from her son.
She just wanted to fucking talk to you
because for most of her day
she just sits around; is too weak to walk anywhere
and has nobody but dad to talk to when he’s not at work.

So when she says ‘I love you, son.’
you realize that one day
you will have done anything
just to hear her say that
just to hear her voice again
just to have her there
for just a little bit longer.

So when she starts talking about the flowers
or the birds in the yard
you don’t say that you have to go
you don’t rush to goodbye
you don’t hang up.

Instead
you find a chair
sit down
and you listen.