As a child
I contemplated death
my death
sudden death
saddened by the world moving forward without me
like
red cardinals in the snow
squirrels scratching up telephone poles
the hiss of an OC Transpo stopping up the street
the cry of children released into the school yard
celery sticks smeared with cheese whiz
the chug of the washing machine
Anna Maria Tremonte inquiring why
ice click clacking against glass full of scotch
thump thump thump up stairs
flicked off lights
toilet flushed
Nothing stopped outside or inside my door
the smallness of me
entombed by
everydayness
life as usual
and then I reached an age where death happened regularly around me
a drowning on a bright cloudless Easter Monday
a truck barreling into car on a busy weekday morning
a brain aneurism in a barn while doing chores
a stroke before lunch
a murder while walking on the beach with a husband
a hanging in a father’s basement
a body sprawled on rocks below a bridge
a heart attack while bathing under an outdoor pipe.
The only thing certain, death
so why not the ordinariness
like milking cows
or hitching a ride
or going into the sea with your son on your back
or taking a trip to a tropical island
Or words exchanged before your Dad leaves for the cottage
Or visiting a lover on the island’s west side
Or stepping out of a car just before lunch
Or taking a shower on a day full of clouds
Death the great interrupter of an ordinary day
non-negotiable
unreasonable
sudden
and quick
So why not design and build your coffin
brilliant red like cardinals in snow
why not plunge your hands in clay and spin an urn
to rest your ashes
before friends and family
scatter you on designated sacred places
you wrote in a will full of poetry and prose
why not speak of death not with fear and sadness
but with the ordinariness of another sacred day
like squirrels scratching up telephone poles
by Maureen St. Clair