May 28, 1981
After we buried my father, your husband
Your cronies came to your house
They were your friends, your colleagues
None of them had ever met my father, your husband
I served the coffee and offered up cookies.
Passed out napkins.
Playing the grieving but dutiful daughter
Made the smallest of small talk.
Slipped outside to partake of medicinal herb
There was chatter and laughter and camaraderie.
You carted out that open-faced social persona
Reserved for company.
Rarely seen by family. No. Make that never.
You were the belle of ball
The Grand Dame
Basking in the attention
Delighting in the distraction
The very reason for the gathering--
My father, your husband--
Was never mentioned.
© Rebecca Duncan