“. . . Oh, God of May have mercy.
Bless these withered bodies
with the passion of your resurrection;
make their dead veins flow with blood again.

Give some tree the gift of green again.
Let one bird sing.”

Excerpt from “When Autumn Came” by Faiz Ahmed Faiz, translated by Naomi Lazard.

Charlie was surprised for a ride before our walk. My husband, my daughter, Suzi and Charlie in the back of the car, drove to the funeral home in Natick. The dogs waited in the car. We had some private moments with Frank’s mother. I said what I wanted to say to her. My thank you’s for her life. This is not what she had hoped and planned. That we cannot make happen. But we’re planning a virtual memorial service for next week. This is what we needed and wanted to do this morning. My son and other daughter opted out of this “viewing,” and we were fine with that. It was an intimate moment for us. Then, the walk in the wet woods. Charlie and me, lingering at the swamp to view the bright bits of bark. There is birdsong in the wetlands. These moments were my moments of true peace. At home, we make plans for this new household: we meet in the kitchen and we each get to list three things that are priorities for us in this shared living that now includes two daughter and a boyfriend of one, me and my husband, and Charlie and Suzi, and working from home, and need for offices and beds. How we’ll share cooking and cleaning up. How and where we’ll work privately. We don’t argue. We each feel heard and respected. I am still unpacking my suitcase and books and clearing up the clutter of returning from Florida into this new time. I experience bursts of exhaustion and energy. I am full of helplessness and fear and love and courage. In the late afternoon, three moms and two daughters and Charlie walk, we’re six feet apart in the fresh air and we cannot hug and we need to hug and one of us is on the front lines and we listen. She tells us what is in her heart and we stand under the sky and cloud cover and a breeze and we listen and this is all we can do to help for now.