RIP After Nearly 103 Years

by Gerard Sarnat

Morpheus droppered in to visit 
my mother’s mouth, makes maiden
named Rhoda Elaine Gerard’s dysphoric 
cri de coeur, “I want to die and go home now!”
resolve for at least as long as that narcos effect lasts.
It dissolves jumping-out-of-skin anxiety into almost calm
as well as relieves difficult breathing caused by pulmonary edema. 
I FaceTime not only her most important caregivers who’ve gathered
in the condo all hands on deck with our eldest daughter, also a physician,
but toward the end, right before I board the short Southwest Air jaunt down
to LA from San Jose, Mom is cogent enough to recognize me, smile dreamily.
Will I arrive before she dies? My fine wife missed this same final flight of the night 
by less than a minute when crew closed the doors…and has never ever forgiven them 
or herself being AWOL for her dad’s demise since he passed an hour before she arrived.
I got a ticket and made it into the cabin, bad news is I’m C-58 middle seat back of the plane.
Good news is a week ago I found my only remaining suit which was meant for a first cousin’s
grandson’s fancy bar mitzvah in the Midwest where I was born, raised plus won’t be revisiting 
on Saturday when odds are strong that by then I’ll’ve joined all my friends who’re already orphans.