The old gals speak of three years

I see them in the cemetery planting geraniums

I need to water mine

 

This in-between happens to those left behind

Change of life that begins when a life ends

There are no hormones at play

 

That first year was boundless

No days of the week or hours of the day

Only the daily reminder that he’s gone

 

Friends asking how you are not waiting to hear

Protecting them you lie and say you’re getting on

Only those who know don’t ask

 

A second year offers routine

Cleaning out, giving away, changing numbers

The business that death offers

 

Now one year to go before another change

The old gals don’t tell what to expect

Trusting them you settle in

 

A new hairdo and maybe remove the ring

Not looking for a replacement

But getting ready to let go again