Tuesday, July 31, 2007

My Popo

Eighty-two years of living. Fifty-nine years of marriage. Laboring, sweating, building, repairing, fighting, sailing, fishing, hunting, teaching, swearing, holding, talking, loving, breathing.

Years of suffering.

Done now.
No more struggling just to breathe.
No more arguing over who did what to whom.

No more fear.
No more pain.
Rest now.
Float on the lovely ocean in my dreams.

Goodbye, Popo. I'm sorry I can't cry, but I really do love you.


Anonymous said...

I know you've been expecting this for a while, but I imagine it's still a bit difficult.

You're in my thoughts.

slouchmonkey said...

My best to you, Mama.

Manny said...

Sorry, I just read this and found out. Let me know if I can help in any way.