—Today is her memorial service.
She will be missed.
She was beautiful
even when she was not—
brilliant
even when she pretended not to be—
a huge window of passion
even as passion was downsized—
and, yes, she was beautiful
even when she was not.
I’m standing in some kind of church
praying to a foreign god:
Please make everything right.
Please make everything good.
The surgery to remove her brain tumor
successful.
I was maybe five.
Hey, I said, you have to listen to this
and I played Vanilla Fudge.
She clapped, asked for more,
and we chugalugged to the Supremes at the Copa.
I was maybe twelve.
I can handle this one, she commanded,
and I’m sure everything will be solved.
We were working in Uptown, Chicago,
a great sprawling slum violent and neglected.
She took the child under her wing
and he thrived because her wings were that strong.
I was maybe nineteen and she
one year younger.
Of course, you can come, and she laughed.
My home is always your home.
The pipes in my old house had burst again
and she warmed me with tacos,
handed me a warm towel,
asked what else I might need to be comfortable.
I was maybe in my thirties.
At the art fair,
she knew everyone.
Introduced me to one artist after another,
gave me a front row seat under her canopy.
What do you think? she asked
and without words she knew my response.
I was maybe forty-five.
Then one day she took a swim in the river
a Mercedes Benz
and climbed the banks a rusted Ford.
Suddenly
everything was underwater.
She asked me why this happened to her.
How do you answer that kind of question?
She died at 8:22 PM,
January 16th, 2022
complication from a stroke.
The night before she passed,
she spent the early evening
singing old time songs with her husband,
and even though her stroke
hit her five years earlier
and she could hardly see
or move parts of her body,
she danced.
Oh, yes, she danced.
Copyright © 2022 by Michael H. Brownstein Michael H. Brownstein’s volumes of poetry, A Slipknot Into Somewhere Else and How Do We Create Love?, were published by Cholla Needles Press in 2018 & 2019, respectively. |
May we all merit such worthy praise!
ReplyDeleteYour eloquent obit makes me wish I had known her.
Me too, I'm with Bob in that sentiment. And thanks for letting us, in your poetic way, also know her.
DeleteA beautiful tribute and a terrible loss. I feel your love, I feel your pain as this beautiful flower opened before you and helped you to open too. May her bloom be ever present in your senses, may her memory be kept awake as she continues her dance through you.
ReplyDeleteThank you, all three of you, for your kind words.
ReplyDeleteSounds like the kind of person that makes life worth living. Thanks for sharing her with us, we all need more people like that.
ReplyDeleteI'm surprised you can write about her this soon, I hope it helps you as much as it seems to help me in bad times. Why is this man not Poet Laureate of Missouri, at the least?
DeleteThree members of our staff live in Missouri. Do you think that gives Moristotle & Co. standing to lobby for MHB to BECOME Missouri’s poet laureate? From The Missouri Arts Council’s website:
DeleteMISSOURI’S POET LAUREATE PROGRAM
The Missouri Arts Council facilitates the Missouri Poet Laureate program on behalf of the Office of the Governor. The program began in 2008. Maryfrances Wagner succeeds Karen Craigo of Springfield, Poet Laureate 2019-21.
Governor Parson chose Maryfrances Wagner from among public nominations vetted by the Missouri Poet Laureate Committee. The committee was composed of four of the five previous Poets Laureate: Karen Craigo, Aliki Barnstone (2016-19), William Trowbridge (2012-16), and Walter Bargen (2008-10). (David Clewell, Missouri’s second Poet Laureate, 2010-12, died in February 2020.)
Roger and Moristotle, A BIG thanks for your compliments.
ReplyDeleteRoger,
ReplyDeleteWe were hopeful she would live for many more years, but her quality of life was worsening. At death she weighed less than 95 pounds. I did get to talk to her a couple of days before she passed into her final coma.
I wrote this piece to share her wonderfulness with the world. I hope it worked.
Thanks again for your most kind words.