Cupcakes @ Midnight

Grief came

ahead of that important day

     unexpected

     unwelcome

bringing with it

unrelenting waves

that toppled my balance

and crashed upon my

heart and mind.

I brushed her away

I didn’t have time

I didn’t wish to

feel her sting

I stopped my ears

to her weeping

& moved more quickly

as if I could outrun

her presence.

For many days I

hoped she would tire

of me and move on.

I gave her no

thought

or attention

but she persisted

she was everywhere

     by my side as I woke

       in the morning

     with me at meals

     as I worked

     and cleaned the house

     in the grocery store.

She could not be

outstepped

or ignored

When I finally thought

she had gone on her way –

I woke in the night to

her inconsolable

tears.

The day was coming

I wanted to forget

to hurry past it

head down and

eyes averted

to be on the other side

so fearful of what

it would stir up –

like an unwanted guest

who would

mess up the furniture

& point out the dust on the mantle place

eat the best cookies

and slurp their tea

too noisily.

But grief was

persistent.

She wanted to-

no –

needed to –

be seen

& to be heard

to be experienced.

The evening came, and her presence

negated all ability to focus on anything else.

I shrugged my shoulders

in defeat.

What will it hurt if I

sit with her,

I cannot bear her noise

any longer. 

The weight of her presence has become too heavy to bear.

To the kitchen we went –

mixing bowls and spoons

and chocolate

and fancy cupcake holders.

I stirred and mixed,

humming as I went.

The more I mixed,

the quieter she became.

She watched over

my shoulder,

passed me an ingredient

just out of reach

tasted the batter

and reminded me

to preheat the oven.

She sat beside me and

patted me on the arm

while the fancy

cupcakes baked.

Reminding me of how much he loved them –

& all the times we

shared them –

& even about that time

we bought and ate

a WHOLE German chocolate cake in less than 24 hours –

& how we laughed about it

every time we ate these fancy cupcakes.

I could hear her

footsteps lightly

behind me as I

wandered from room

to room

marvelling at

how little we knew

about the journey

ahead

when we moved here

6 years ago,

the smell of chocolate

everywhere.

She pointed out the moon

rising out of the clouds

at 1130 pm,

so clear through

the kitchen window

as I mixed the frosting.

She whispered, “He wasn’t

great at picking out gifts,

but maybe, just maybe,

he pulled back the curtain

on that beauty of a moon-

just for you.”

She held the cupcakes while

I frosted them and

added the coconut topping – she licked the spoon,

and declared them finished.

She poured me a glass

of milk at midnight and

slipped the biggest cupcake

with the most frosting,

on a plate.

She sat beside me at the table and stole a few bites

as we welcomed

the 28^th wedding anniversary-

the first one without him.

She pointed out the best

pictures as I scrolled

through my phone

and added them to a Facebook post.

I laughed as I remembered

I cried –

I ate fancy cupcakes.

She stayed near. 

I wrote – she corrected my memories and

insisted on honesty as I

strung words

together.

She pulled down the covers while I put my jammies on.

The moon still shining brightly- like a sun in the middle of the night.

“A midnight anniversary,”

she whispered, “how appropriate. He would have liked that.”

She curled up in bed

beside me.

She hadn’t cried

in hours

she was there

     content

     a shadow

     assisting

     pointing out

     company

she ate a lot of frosting

 and was a bit

opinionated

about the words

I needed to write –

but her unrelenting waves

had become

a soft movement

of the surf

upon the rocky beach

     familiar

     comforting.

She turned her back

as if to drift off to sleep.

She whispered, “The world would have you outrun me, they don’t understand

that I am not separate

from you –

you cannot outrun

yourself. The days will come and be marked

whether you agree to

them or not

     slow down

     make the cupcakes

     eat them at midnight

     watch the moon &

     wonder if he got the gift

       right this time

     share your memories

     write, cry

     put on fresh jammies   

     and rest.

Allow my presence

to look over your

     shoulder      

     lick the spoon

     and remind you of the

       words you really

       want to say.

You get farther

allowing the wave to

move you to new

places.

You can’t stop the water

but you can learn to

enjoy the sounds of

its surf

rearranging the pebbles of your life

on the shore.”

She fell asleep

quickly and quietly.

I slowly

moved out of bed

and into the kitchen –

ate some leftover

frosting off a spoon

and watched the marvellous moon.

So bright

so beautiful

not quite full

even more beautiful because of that.

“I made you fancy cupcakes,” I whispered,

“And celebrated at midnight. And just so you know- you finally got the anniversary gift right – perfect even.”

I crept back to bed.

Grief never moved a muscle.

She slept soundly for the

first time in weeks.