Patrick's wife is Yin Liu, a Chinese-American born in Dalian, China. I met Yin bc she was the owner of Le Coffee Salon in Hatboro, PA. Our Writing Group used to meet there.Here's a post I did about her.
AND I'm happy to report that I'm now able to download my photos, unlike several days ago. Methinks The Robot Blogspot was malfunctioning, like poor ole HAL in that greatest of movies A Space Odyssey.
THE GONG SOUNDS
While the stars were conversing well past midnight
her husband was beginning to die
she walked past the room where
he worked, maybe she'd caress his
scraggly beard before going to sleep
a force pulled her into
his room, where his head lay
at a strange angle, like a marionette
come off its strings and fallen into
a heap, a terrible heap
He was not dead yet. "Talk to
me," she said, taking his still
warm hand. And planted her
cheek against his, as one eye
blinked, then began its awful
stare.
At the hospital they wouldn't
let her in his room. By now
this woman from the west coast
of China had flown to the moon
they called her a taxi
She came back to earth when
the female driver, rude as a prison
matron, asked if she had money
for the fare
Just as the funeral home
demanded upfront payment
for the cremation
Oh how that widow wept
when she entered the
foyer, a tall woman with
long black hair, spiked heels
and black widow's weeds
for the blackest day in
her life. I want to die, I want
to die, she sobbed in our arms.
Be strong, said a friend.
Stop your crying, said another.
Hadn't Mary sobbed at the
foot of the cross?
She collapsed and lay
on the high hill of
Golgotha
We got her a rolling
desk chair, pulled her
near lifeless body
onto the black padded seat
and wheeled her to the next room
to see her beloved.
He lay like a Scandinavian
prince in his new home
still, unmoving, peaceful
as a cloud, with color in his cheeks
This was her beloved. She stood
above him, as if he were in a
hospital bed, waiting to
come home. But her man
was no more. Dead as the autumn
leaves come sailing from
the trees, this August 27, 2015.
A man of sixty with a world
of things to do. "Why?" she
asks God or anyone who will
listen.
"Why? Why? Why?"
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