Requiem for Marjorie

"A third of the way along"

Says Marjorie.

Issuing orders as usual.

"Excess moisture must always be removed."

I'm reminded vaguely of a song

I once heard.

I do hope you liked the outfit I chose for you. 

Do you remember when you met us in France?

You were small and frail and not at all the monster

I'd earlier feared.

My mother in law.

Just what does that mean?

You knew all the Latin names of plants

And filled out your days with invented chores.

Digging in your garden

Polishing and rinsing

Re-arranging your living room

Ready for the neighbours tour.

And last year

On one breezy day in July

We sat outside on your birthday

Feasting on tea and sandwiches.You were ninety two.

"Would you like to be my bridesmaid dear?"

You said.

"I'm getting married soon."

"My Grandfather's coming to the wedding"

I nodded and threw the birds 

A solitary crust of bread.

Frail and bent

Imprisoned in a care home,

You held my hand and would not let go.

And later,

Standing among the marshes

We scattered your ashes.

And sent

You back into your heartland

A place where I hoped you were once happy

And earlier I peered into your coffin

You wore the outfit I chose for you

And I saw your hand

The one that held mine

That freezing January day

When you smiled at me.

But I could do nothing for you

Then.

So I told you Goodbye

For you gave me no sign

That it was the last time.