Condolences (an epilogue)

I often held onto you

when you cried, no matter

how often you pushed me away.

It was never about the rent,

when your roommates let you down

again

It was never about your father, or

his constant disappointment

in you

It was never about your pet crayfish,

his health and happiness questionable

at best

(cause who really knows

or ever asked how a crayfish feels?)

It was always about your mother

When you cried, all those ripples centered

around your mother, and how she died when

you were only thirteen years old.

I never really knew anyone with such tragedy

in their lives, never really saw them cry as

constant reminders plagued them, never

really tried to console what could never

be consoled.

maybe I wasn't

saying the right things, maybe I wasn't

holding you tight enough, maybe I wasn't

caressing your cheeks soft enough, maybe, maybe,

maybe...

When we took that trip with

your family to Disney Land,

another constant reminder,

you broke down in the

gift shop after Splash

Mountain, a ride you

always went on as a kid.

The attendant tried to console you

without ever knowing what it was

exactly he was consoling you for,

offering you discounts at the park's

photo center.

When I think about that

moment, all those tears for your

dead mother, I think that you

really never can be consoled.

And, when I think about those

discounted photos that seemed to

stop those tears, I think that

maybe you never want to be.