The doctor told me you certainly are happy but I don’t know how soon will be your last day. That made me want to compose my own eulogy:
A Glad and Grateful Goodbye
We are driven you and I. My soul and my body. To the farthest skies, we have a world not here not there; Of journeys. In drop down valleys to upside spheres. We encounter ourselves. In gravitas and in extremes. And the whether is besides us. We see our mother’s eyes through translucent skin. Feel the heave of her tummy. Breathing, pumping, rocking our head. Her long hand under our whole back. And her left thumb rubbing the inner corner of the left eye to the nose. She hums a Swedish purr. Min perfection, min lilla gubbe. My talking tongue leaves my mouth. Why is this heaven?
I go to my father’s synagogue higher than his head. He carries me above his chest in the strongest arms in the crook of his folded elbows. At that moment I became him, seeing the world and I knew forever how to be imperious. I tell the world you are not subjects. We are G-d’s thank yous for the furniture of the beautiful queen nature that surrounds us. We are in a field of his hills. We are in my father’s arms. We are singing our thanks. Oh dance me dad. Oh wander with me my growth. Kiss my upper lip and my lower chin. I never want to leave this life. I’m dizzying with your busy universe, able aba. perfect papa. I sway.
Where is Israel in the brooks? Where is tzion, under your sleeves? It is in the study of your sunny head tefilin. Is this in the knot on G-d’s brainstem? You are a torch, you bereaved torso. You have been hunted by the heel and stick to groundlessness. Now. There is a muddy brown that is exchanged for your blood and it is rising.
Oh my wife. I belong to you. I see the skin fold hurry under your eyelids. I want to be your sleep. I walk along your long grace. Your bones are hard to everyone’s stance but not to my fingers’ touch. There are tender demands when you open your lips, your tongue, your teeth. Your teeth are teaching my empty throat. Am I only just now breathing? G-d has given me this. We are face, two legs, alike. We have no weight. Wherever we are, the world is turning. This is nonesuch time.
I love you each, you little bean balls of being. All that sand rolled on to you. Little specks of gravel will be your experiences. I will have big pockets to ever carry you home in.