Death visited and Joe, at ninety-four was the obvious host.

My father-in-law,

legs and brain lost strength

Almost motionless and often asleep.

“Any pain Joe?” I asked, a nod

“My heels”, we put on sheep skin boots.

He said he was “OK”.

His gut lost strength as well, so peristalsis stopped.

A full cup of tea, given against my advice

by a loving and determined grand-daughter caused nausea.

Yet that Friday morning,  Joe’s joy and Amelia’s total joy

as that cup of tea was being drunk

was our joy.

He asked in a rare moment of speaking, it was Sunday,

“what is wrong with me?”

The answer came unstudied.

It was not the time for cleaver diagnosis, “you know Joe”.

His face crumpled and his eyes closed.

Holding his hand the pressure was returned.

Then Tuesday night, shallow breath out, but no breath in.

How to speak of death when all I felt was an uncomprehending sorrow.

At that second the space between life and death was a cold, opaque sheet of descending  glass.

My love for the man who’s family I had belonged to for all those years.

All the remembered brusque kindnesses and one shouted disagreement.

His care and concern for his grandchildren, my children.

Where is he now? In my heart.