Good night, Ma…

I remember kissing my parents good night.
I would come into their room, right next to mine,
and dive on their bed right between them.
One would yell as I landed…or both of them would yell,
but they never told me to get off the bed.
They would separate just enough for me to crawl in between them,
with my head in the space between their pillows.

And I would say good night.

Years, decades even, pass in the blink of the eye.
I would still go into their room at night sometimes,
and even though I didn’t dive anymore, I’d still crawl between them
We would talk about my day, my life,
me, me, me, always about me.
They would pat my back, listening to me go on and on,
never asking me to be quiet or leave.

And I would say good night.

The dark days came when Pop was dying.
I spent hours upon hours in his room,
sitting, kneeling, lying on the bed to be close to him.
Until the bitter end we talked and talked,
about what if, and who will, and I can, until the dawn.
And on that last day, as the minutes slowed and my heart raced,
still he was there for me, with his hand on my back.

And I said good night.

Now the darkness is upon me once again.
I spend hours and hours in her room,
Bringing flowers, bringing memories, bringing stories.
I sit on the bed, I sit by the bed, I sit and I sit,
because it’s all about you, you, you now.
And the last days are coming, and I think my own heart will stop this time,
and still I will be there with her, with her hand in mine.

And I will say, good night, Ma.