Mourners

(Found here)

I was thinking quite a bit about my father over the weekend. We attended one of his former churches on Sunday. Mom was with us. It is all still quite difficult since his sudden passing at the end of May. We had three memorial services for him in a couple of states over the summer. I thought this poem captured certain aspects well...

After the funeral, the mourners gather

under the rustling churchyard maples

and talk softly, like clusters of leaves.

White shirt cuffs and collars flash in the shade:

highlights on deep green water.

They came this afternoon to say goodbye,

but now they keep saying hello and hello,

peering into each other’s faces,

slow to let go of each other’s hands.

~Ted Kooser