Those Who Are Left Behind

Death comes in many ways.
Sudden as a hawk
Swooping down.
Long and painful,
A drawn-out parting.
Or soft and gentle
As the tide ebbing out.

Those who are left behind
To puzzle things out
Are never ready.
Not ready to say goodbye,
Even if we keep faith
That we’ll be reunited.
Yes, even then.

We wish one more day,
An hour, a moment,
With our beloved one.
We want to see them smile,
Just one more time,
Or ten, or twenty-three,
And to give them our best blessings.

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