A son’s new suit…

“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.

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