A Ship of Theseus family. Mother, Father, Brother. And me. Close. And then, Brother dies.
And I regret, resent Time.
Now I am a Mom, married to a Dad. A new family. My family?
No. Not Mother, Father, Brother. And me.
But then, Mother and Father pass.
And all that’s left is me of this Theseus family. I replace Mother with myself as Mom, and Father with Dad. Two roles I am reluctant to recast.
And a new little Sister and Brother.
And now on my deathbed, I am alone. Mother, Father, Brother, gone. My family. Turned over.
If we held hands, me as Mom and you as Dad, both dying.
And you go first. Would I cry knowing
that there would be no time for me to be without you?
Is it death that saddens, or loss by death? As I am dying, fading, I think: “Here I go. That was life.”
A new husband and new wife.