12:00 pm

It’s noon. I know that in a few hours I’ll be gone for good. People have gathered; friends, family, the ones who stayed. My wife is loved, even in my brittle state. I told her not to cry. It won’t be the last time.

1:00 pm

The reception begins. They come in waves to offer condolences. Do they not know I’m no longer here?

They see me wrapped in white, perfume clinging to the air, covered from world.

I cannot feel them. My breath is still, as though silence itself were proof that words no longer reach this place.

I hope they speak kindly of me. I hope that is enough.

2:00 pm

Sweet dishes and savory delights are laid before them. Guests laugh, talk, remember. I sit at the edge, restless.

No flavor reaches my tongue, no joy stirs my heart.

I once savored sweetness; may I find a place where it never fades.

3:00 pm

A few people leave life presses on, other voices call them back to duties they never chose.

Those who remain are the closest. They give me what they can: time. For me, it no longer matters. For them, it is everything. I don’t think they know that.

Sooner or later, they will arrive here too, where feeling loosens its grip. Perhaps that’s the truth we share. We are more alike than they think.

4:00 pm

The room empties. Only my parents and my wife remain.
I feel her presence, the ache of a hand so near it almost remembers me.

They say you will be with the one you love.
I hope it is true.

I keep it hidden: my love for her has died tonight.

Soon, her hand will pull away. I hope it finds somewhere gentle. I asked that no one cry. So far, they are keeping their promise.

5:00 pm

The sky turns amber, then softens to pink. My wife has work tomorrow; she will leave this place behind.

She whispers that these are her duties, but the words taste like grief on her tongue.

I feel the total darkness falling. My presence begins to fade, like a dream forgotten before morning.

6:00 pm

Everyone has left, it is now quiet.

7:00 pm

Life continues without my presence. The house still needs cleaning, the mail still piles up.

Nothing pauses to ask where I’ve gone. Nothing breaks because I’m not watching.

8:00 pm

Most have forgotten the day’s events. Some are already planning for future memories.

I remain unscheduled, my calendar is suddenly all blank.

9:00 pm

A few remember the love I shared. Briefly, I reached someone.

10:00 pm

I am alone, surrounded by silence. I come apart only as everything does when it is allowed to rest.

11:00 pm

They think of me one last time.

Midnight

I am no longer in the day’s story. I’m glad you were able to love me for just a few hours.