Here we are at his last Thanksgiving. We're now in the midst of planning our 9th without him.
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September 23, 2002
The phone rings once
startling me awake
from a deep sleep.
I jump out of bed to answer it
knocking the Waterford
perfume bottle from my dresser,
and there is no one on the line.
Only 5 a.m. but I am up
for the third anniversary of Paul’s death,
a day I dread every year.
All I can think is
Paul called to check in,
to let us know he is still around:
I go out on the porch
and watch the orange half moon
set behind the trees.
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