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A Death in the Family

I look upon your grieving heads and wonder why they are bowed and

gazing downward in distress.

Did I not live a happy life?

Your shoulders are heavy, as if they carry great burden,

though I thought I took my troubles with me.

My sickness was not catching, so why do you all stand alone?

We ignore our wandering eyes.

We do not need to see each other to know that we see the same thing.

The body is gone, but you are not and

we know your empty bed cannot hold us all.

We separate to spread the weight of your departure,

for we are the columns that hold

the sickroom


even in death.

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