I left him in the time between his mother dying and her funeral
Which wasn’t the best of timing.
Especially given that
When I saw his mother,
Three weeks before she died,
And she asked us to look after each other
I’d agreed that we would.
But perhaps I was looking after him
By ending it,
As he found a new love
In a matter of weeks
Who became his wife,
And bore him two children.
When I saw his mother
She was yellow wrinkled skin and bones.
She thought she had jaundice
And would get better.
She actually had cancer of the liver
And was not going to recover.
Her husband, his dad, said don’t tell her,
She’ll give up hope.
But there was no hope
And no goodbyes
Because of the lie.
I disagreed with it profoundly
But respected his wishes.
And thought she knew, anyway.
It was her husband who couldn’t face the inevitable.
Babs Kirby 