What I Would Not Part With: Poems of First Times

I lost my wife in 2020 to a brain tumor just a few weeks after we had celebrated our 48th wedding anniversary. “Celebrated” is a word that springs back when pressed down. More subdued than earlier ones, to be sure, that last anniversary was nonetheless a felt celebration of a lifetime together. A lifetime does not disappear just as soon as you know for certain that the end of it for one of you is near. It does not even disappear when that end comes, for you have kept what you would not part with. Robert Frost said that, and I have tried to shape my own words and imagination to explore in my own way the poetic and emotional landscape he so often navigated masterfully. I would read Frost’s poetry to my wife in the evenings as she gazed toward another unpredictable night. It is required of us all to traverse that ground probably twice—once if we are called upon to give care, and once when we ourselves need to be given caring attention during our final stanzas. These poems are not only about loss, although loss and grief are my constant companions as I walk among trees. More importantly, these poems are about remontancy—the surprising emergence of new life, the recognition of continued being and doing, the glimpses I offer of me and my son picking up—thanks to her—where she left off.

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