He asked her out in junior high,
and they were inseparable
for seventy-one years—he loved
her thoughtfully and sincerely.
Dementia had set upon him
when cancer crushed her on Christmas.
He clawed against the end of life
like a cat over an ice bath.
In his final days, he forgot
she died—daily learning her fate
until he passed on Good Friday.
My poor Pop—that’s cold, Jesus.