Dominique Marie Glick

Cabbage and Noodles

 
why is she talking of what goes to whom when she's dead and gone;
her wedding rings
a braclet my late grandfather pounded out for her
when he was in the foundry in his navy days.
she tells me to put it on,
                                                       "it fits you better then me"       she says.
on the inside, she just discovered last week,
was an engraving

"with love, for my dearest
albina, john
1945"


                                                                 we are all dying but what will take that last breath?


"why are we talking of death?" i ask her
and she replies

                                                        "because it's time"

and i tell her to not say that.

she says                                                             "i am living because God wants me to be;
i am not living because it's what i want."

i tell her half jokingly
"at this rate you won't even see one of us married, let alone are kids"
she chuckles,
"yeah, i don't think any of you will ever get married"

i exclaim in protest "i don't think the rest of your grandkids would, but i think i will"

she says "that's true, i think you are the most likely..."

i ask her if she would like to know when she's dying
and she says yes.
i ask why
"so i could prepare myself," and i can't remember if she said "for him" or not
but i know it's what she was thinking.
her eyes start to look glassy to me,
mine start to brim with tears.
i don't know how i can still say this,
but i don't believe.

she is so devote
to everyone
and only herself because God made her too.
she is the least selfish person i've ever met
and i don't want to ever be
powerless, blinded, or even hopeful
like her.

can i be forever okay
with not having all the answers to
why we are here, where we are going, and what comes after?
she doesn't know why God wants her here,
she just says he does.

and i say "oh" in response to her "preparation" as i wipe away tears

it's too late, she saw them anyway.
and she goes on to say

"but if it is God's will to not have me know when i am going...."

and i say "you mean if you start to lose your mind?" and she says

"yes,

then i will want that too.
I want whatever he wants for me"

she is in his hands.
 

i've grown regretful and tiresome of decisions
and what i've made of them.
some things i've done in this last summer were not me at my best.
perhaps i'd be better to give it all up into
someone else's hands.


the tree is getting cut down next week,
my grandma says it is sick.

i take some pictures of it, i'm pissed to hear it "has to go"
i protest like a child; "but you can't!
i have pictures of me climbing it when i was a little girl."
the bark is falling off.
it looks sad and alone,
it looks gone,
the light is shining on it funny
as if i'm looking at it through dead curtains,
old antiqued veils,
like her bedroom did in the early evening gloom that day
when i went to put away the bracelet.

i feel a little sick and while i've only been standing 21 years
i'm not sure it would be nearly as heartbreaking as losing the tree
if someone were to cut me down.