“She will most certainly not be missed!”
the doddering cleric awkwardly misspoke
meaning “certainly will” and “it won’t be the same”
but said the opposite of both and made a joke.
A daughter cried through the eulogy
recounting with the inadequacies of word
how her Mom lived and loved and mostly well
now glorified and comfortable; she was assured.
A grand life this quiet woman lived
unnoticed, unaccomplished, unheralded life
but praised and missed and truly mourned now
the almost perfect mother and almost perfect wife.
She tried to make her kids better
to get them to stand up straight and finish school
she never stopped trying even though she failed
polite talk concealing whether she was just a fool.
And a son sat weeping in the pew ahead
comforted by a child who hugged and was cute
this mourner grubby, unkempt but formally dressed,
the label on a jacket sleeve showed it was a new suit.