november 19

it used to be just a day
now it's the day
you died
alex

i woke up in the night
the veil had parted 
for just a second
a swirling 
crashing music 
heart racing 
warmth 
hope of heaven 

november 19
the day to go sit there
early
before the sun is up

to collapse on the pavement 
i barely made it there
and sob
using all the kleenex your baby nephew pulled out of the box last night 

wondering how he pulled out so many in 2 seconds

to take a deep breath 
and sob again

this november 19 is gray and cold 
the clouds so thick and heavy, 
the sky is hidden 

it's different this time
before i was numb and frozen 
with no tears
now the tears fall

i would have stayed longer 
but the cold sidewalk stole the warmth from my body 
even though i wore four layers, 
including the gray flannel and gray coat
that were yours

i gathered my pile of tissues
and walked away 
away into the mist to continue another november 19
 
to go home 
home 
this house where you grew and flew 
where you visited 
first a little, then a lot 
always welcome 
wish you didn't have to leave us 
wish you could have figured it out
 
november 19 
a day to listen 
to the beauty will rise album 
on repeat
 
and then to listen 
to anne wilson music, this time her local concert at the opera house

i wrote a letter to your brother
 
to the cemetery 
of course 
the walk to your grave was wet 
and the rainwater soaked through my shoes making my feet cold 

the path strewn with
leaves of all colors and sizes
and pine needles
both fresh green and old brown  
and pine cones

your stone had raindrops on it 
i liked how it looked 
the rain looked like tears

also at the stone was a cigarette box 
whose scent still lingered 
somehow 
in the air 
the person must have been here not long ago

november 19
confusing 
it will always seem like a sunday 
but somehow every sunday
seems like the day you died 
in the early morning 
when i'm alone 
at the kitchen window
even though it's been two years 

wish you were here alex
wish there was never a november 19, 2023