I’ll never forget the day you locked yourself
out of the house. You called for help – I came.
I broke into your bathroom by climbing onto
the garage roof and squeezing through your window.
Briefly, I hooked my belt around the latch,
which threatened to leave me undressed and hanging.

A deep sense of determination was written
on your face, reminding me of Mount
Rushmore, resolute and irresistible,
a pervading positivity that said
‘this can be done, let’s make the most of it’.
Pragmatic stoicism served you well.

But in your eyes I saw hidden emotion.
I saw your caring check of those around you
and presiding pride in friends and family.
You held my eyes, revealed intelligence,
weariness, frustration at all you’d lost,
until the last page was turned and Wordle done.

Setting out the chairs today felt wrong
as one was in your place – a weekly reminder,
as if one’s needed. Soon we’ll say goodbye.
Ever thoughtful, you’ve told us what you want.
Not wearing black, we’ll celebrate as one
a resolute life in story and joyful song.

Over Christmas we lost a long-term member of our weekly lunch at church. We’ll miss her. I met with the family today ahead of the funeral. These verses emerged from our conversation.
(07.01.25)

© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by 🇸🇮 Janko Ferlič on Unsplash