ML's Wake

ML's Wake

By this time, wonderful friends,
and readers,
you are all aware that
our dearest Mary Lynne
had taken flight,
escaped her pain,
and transferred her joy
into the welcoming arms
of angels.

As a poet,
it is now time
for me to take
a sabbatical from the pen
and immerse myself
into the sad reality
of picking over her personal things,
peering into her idiosynchracies
and quiet secrets hidden
in boxes, drawers,
closets, and behind doors.

Hubbabubba Scott is executor
and inheritor
of our dear Mary Lynne’s estate,
and the fact that we
pretty much do things
together,
I will be involved in the hard work
of going through her possessions,
helping him decide
what to keep
and what to give
to family, friends & charity.

Last week
was very difficult for us.
I’ve cried my eyeballs out
and can’t find them on the floor,
anywhere.
I had no idea how emotionally draining
this all would be;
informing officials,
taking care of arrangements,
making the phone calls,
picking out clothes for her to wear.
Just going through her drawers
looking for undergarments
and looking through her closet
for hat, shoes, etc.
took a toll on me.

I felt like any minute
she would come through the door,
shreik,
and ask what the hell
we were doing
rummaging through her apartment.

Then we had to find her mother’s ashes.
Thank God
I can go into 6th sense
on short notice,
and found her
in the closet
everyone had sworn
they looked through
and swore she wasn’t there!

Then there are the times
during normal conversation
when someone says something
and this triggers another round of tears.

I don’t do well under stress.
I attended her funeral services
with a fever blister
on my upper lip
that looked
like a miniature cauliflower.
I was such a lovely sight.
NOT!

Anyone who has gone through this
will be able to attest
to the exhaustion one feels.
We plan on taking our time
with this process
because dear Mary Lynne had so many things,
duplicates even.
She must have had some ‘pioneer’
in her blood;
she was stocked up and ready
for any kind of catastrophe.
No kidding!

We already found a bunch of irons,
all in their boxes,
working and dead ones.
Why she didn’t throw away
the ones that didn’t work,
I’ll never know.

ML had every piece of clothing
in its own dry cleaner bag.
She has about 30 different hats
for all seasons
all in their own hat boxes.
All her shoes were in their own shoe boxes.
In her safety deposit box
she had all her legal papers in a row,
copy of her funeral plot,
and in her files
she had little maps drawn
for directions to other important papers.

I am learning so much
about how to organize things -
down to the size of a gnat’s eyeball -
how to properly stack
linens and sheets and towels
to get the maximum number
into the smallest places.

Thank you Mary Lynne, for
when my tears dry up
and I can catch my breath
and exorcise this knot in my stomach,
I will emerge an enriched person,
and your allowing me
to peek into the icons and artifacts
of our family's past
will undoubtedly transcend my grief,
and be reborn
as poetry.

Janet Leigh August 2008