I didn't know

Why?
What happened?
How did it come down that you could not tell us?
We never talked much after I left. Your last email
Around Rachel's birthday mentioned
We
     Need to
     Connect.
You knew and never told us.

That night I got there with Terry
The smell of Winstons everywhere
Open Tums on the table next to the chair
Covered with the Bears blanket you
Wrapped yourself in while Mom
Begged you to go to the hospital.
We sat down at the kitchen table.
I thought of the day grandma died
And you called Garry at work.
The supervisor said he isn't here and you
Told him that he was. Garry's voice faint on the line:
What?
Garry, Grandma's dead.
                                               Mom: What a terrible thing
                                                          to say over the phone.
When my sister in law called, I knew some one died.
No one calls unless someone died.
                                              Karen: Are you sitting down?
I knew it was not Mom.

II.

Why?
Chicken and not ribs in the fridge
Plus quitting smoking plus exercise
Adds up to you knew something was wrong.
You had no insurance
Did you know what was happening?
Were you scared?
Mom told me you could hardly walk downstairs
Said you were freezing.
Did you know what was happening?
I slept in your chair that night finding
I could not sleep at all and looked at those Tums.
The man asked me the next day if I needed
To
See
You.

To
Say
Goodbye.

I didn't ask to see you
I didn't need closure.
Sleeping in your chair
Under your blankets
In your house
Was all the closure I needed.