Wild Iris Ties

Mama reels between the wreaths
Of Irish roses and sympathy cards
as she leans over to kiss Daddy
thirty-eight years goodbye.
I thought about how Daddy had always said
He'd never be caught dead in a monkey suit and tie.

As I sat there waiting my turn to say goodbye
I remembered Daddy teaching
Chris how to climb over the rusty gate
to pull cattails from the ditch
rich with sludge and crayfish.
"Look, Mom, here's some cats' tails, just for you!" he'd said.

Michael, wanted to give me flowers
so he picked dandelions.
Daddy told him to watch as he blew on them
until all he had left was a fistful of stems.
"Dandy lions ought to be free," Michael said.

Alisa, barely two, drew a permanent magic marker
smiley face on our rented kitchen cabinet door,
"See, Mommy! 'miley face!"
I was upset because we'd have to paint, instead,
Daddy gave me the Sunday comics to frame it.

I found a cracked pickle jar to hold the dried brown cattails;
A chipped milkglass vase to keep the hand-picked
dandelion stem bouquet.
I trimmed the Sunday comic strip border and
the smiley face smiled permanently.

Then, Mama brushed the lint from Daddy's tear-stained tie
I thought, "Don't they know, he prefers to sleep on his side?"
But, as I looked at him, sleeping, it dawned on me:
I may never get to see them again,
And they'll never get to say goodbye.

December 1986