afraid the sorrow
was fading
I found scribbled notes today
neatly folded in my purse —

a list of daddy’s lodges
where he was born
mama’s handwriting: clothes

notes from the funeral home
notes for the memorial
notes for the public death notice
notes on what to bring

I remember thinking
I have to do this right
it’s one of the last things
I can do for dad

and I know now
not to be afraid
the sorrow hasn’t faded
and quite possibly
may never end