Secured her clean exit prior to the fact,
Stalled family disputes--
The elderly woman was efficient,
With an excellent eye for detail:
Bought the casket,
Designed her stone,
Selected hymns for the service,
And was the first church member
To reserve the Sunday flutist
For her funeral songs,
Fancying the thought of a single pipe
Warbling like a ruffled wren—
She imagined herself perched
On a branch outside the church
Looking in to see the service
Unfold as planned.
Looking in to see the service
Unfold as planned.
It surprised her,
The satisfaction it brought,
Preparing her Event—
Surprised her too that no one found it morbid.
People these days are improving, she thought,
Better at saying the right thing.
So far, everyone had said the right thing:
“Of course, Miss Evelyn,”
“As you wish,”
“I’d be honored.”
Her oldest daughter even offered to help,
Suggested a trip to the mall to buy clothes.
They passed an evening together
Sorting family recipes, deciding about the meal.
It reminded her of when they planned the wedding,
Except without the date set, or the RSVP—
The excitement of Occasion,
All in the Order of things.
She felt a sense of accomplishment,
When there was nothing left but the waiting.
Words of benediction rose unbidden in her mind,
The Peace which passeth all human understanding...
Yes, that was it—
Beyond understanding—
A burden lifted, as if her decisions had
Settled something vague, but once and for all,
Like separating eggs,
Or sieving broth.
Still, she went over details in her mind,
Of the corpse itself, what would show,
Who would do the washing and dressing.
She hoped it would be a woman, at the funeral home—
Someone kind.
December 13, 2011
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