Let's Get On With The Grief

   In the weeks and months following my husband's death I carefully kept at bay my classical friends. Julia, the spoiled emperor's daughter, Cartimandua, that wonderful Roman Celtic Queen and Tanaquil, the Etruscan wife of the fifth king of ancient Rome. But it was not to last.

   "If you're going to keep pushing us away because you're not handling your grief, then let's just do it, and do it right." Julia's school marm tone had no warmth, no sympathy.
   "Let her be," Tanaquil said. "It hasn't been that long."
   Julia's horse snort laugh left no doubt of her feeling. "For Juno's sake, Tanaquil, don't you remember how within minutes of Tarquin's death you were actively coniving to make your son-in-law, Servius, the new king? Did you stop to wallow in self pity?"
   "But that was different," Tanaquil said.
   "Ye Gods, give me a break. A dead husband is a dead husband whether he died in battle, from assassination or from some illness. Dead is dead. Now this grieving -- we all have to deal with it. So let's do it right. Let us each write a letter to our dead mates, bearing our minds and souls, stating our loves and pains."
   Cartimandua's words were short and chilly. "I would have welcomed Venutius's death. And Julia, if I may ask, which husband will you address? Or which of your lovers?"
   "I can handle my choice. Can you? Address your father. I remember you mourned his death. Or your chariot driver lover." Julia's voice grew softer. "It will help Jewellee."
   So we agreed. Each of us would write a letter to someone important to us-- who was no longer with us. Tanaquil and Carti demanded that Julia write the first letter. Then we follow in turn.
   Next time Julia's letter to -- we'll have to wait. Will it be Marcellus, her first love, or Agrippa the father of her five children or her father on whom she really did dote?

Mimosas and Butterflies

                                         Mimosas and Butterflies

                                     On my kitchen wall hangs
                                      a montage of nine photos
                                   Butterflies on mimosa blooms
                                          with poetic captions
                                  Produced by my just deceased mate
                            ' In mid August', he said, 'the blossoming mimosa
                                        flutters with butterflies'
                                                It's August now
                                The mimosa outside my kitchen window
                                       The mimosa he cherished 
                                          Flutters with butterflies