The Big D
She was beginning to lose her mind.
Then she lost her husband.
Now days are long or short –
for her there is no difference.
Now days are long naps
interspersed with sitting up
and staring into space.
Now days are sleepwalks.
She doesn’t remember the story
everyone seems to know.
9 thoughts on "The Big D"
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I used to say it was like my dad lived on the other side of a mirror where I couldn’t follow. At least not while awake. I love how spare and straight forward this poem is. It still makes me want to cry.
The last two lines are heart wrenching! Whiplash shift from the past comical to the tragic here.
This is so well done, Mike! Everything about it.
Great short poem with the perfect title.
The Big D, is devastating as many of us know all too well. thanks for sharing.
Your conclusion is crushing and beautiful.
Poignant — that’s the word that comes to mind while reading this. The poem has a wistful, gripping quality that I adore. And the building of the “Now days are” is wonderful.
My 100-year-old uncle walks in and out of the Big D. My heart breaks when he, storyteller of our family:
doesn’t remember the story
everyone seems to know.
The Big D is quite a walk and I like the rhythm of this piece. A heaviness shadows my heart when I resurrect my Mom’s dance in dementia. Thank you for sharing this piece gives me a push to say what some days shadows my heart.