Remembering Family

This is how I will always remember them,
Anya as the baby, Elias as the little boy,
and Greta full of doggy exuberance.
They are not dead, to be remembered
in that way, but they are not me,
and it seems I have not always done
my best to get around this separation
imposed by clinging bits of stardust.
Greta is farthest along, 84 in dog years,
and likely the first to go into the mystery.
I come in second, having just turned 47.
I think I must be past the halfway point,
probably well past, as I slouch and sigh.
The picture captures something vital to
who I am, who I want to be, who I will be.
What bright shining souls reside in these
bodies of varying size and temperament!

They are my lot, they are my love, they are my life.



***