Thank you to my friend Valarie

for the hilarious text giving me permission

to get a glass eye:

"Cry until your eyeballs fall out....

Or maybe just till one falls out...

You would be fine

with a glass eye."

Thank you to the son

who asked me to write

about my experience of the death of a parent

since,

"I will need to know the process,

the spirituality,

the ritual,

because our millennial generation

never learned

and some day it will be my turn."

I don't think anyone knows how till it is time to babystep through the bodyslam.

Us of Irish descent

Unexpectedly,

each time,

mourn with snotty loud tears and wild laughter.

Cords between souls

Rip out in the veil during the passing over time.

Our people know

We KNOW

We wear our bodies inside our souls.

Soul turns into fog for brief eternal moments

Grief of depth-unexpected turns blood to sludge and kills the brain circuit switches at the worst times possible.

Because we Love deeply.

So before this time is done

I see

I will be getting a glass eye.