I think about my parents every day and how I wish they were still here.

Black polished granite
bears silent witness
of one pairing intertwined in life,
now absent from the world
on this day of all days.

Water dabbed
on cool stone
washes it clean and
allows knowing fingers
to trace chiseled grooves.

We trim the hearty blades
that have overgrown
to intrude on mirrored elegance
and exchange withered flowers
for others that cannot last.

Huddled, we stand
weeping for the loss
that has little abated
with time and distance
as heat and sun bear down
to increase the burden we all share.

Words of hollow emotion
whispered in our ears
echoing guilt of
things unsaid and deeds undone
That cannot be Undone.

We comfort one another
and patiently await our own time
when none of this matters.
For we were not survived by,
but the ones who have survived.