One Tear

When my wife died
her last act upon this earth
was to shed a tear.
One lonely tear.
Because you die alone you see,
even in a room full of people.

She took her last breath
and a tear formed at
the corner of her eye.
It traced a damp path
across her cheek to
the pillow beneath her head.

I reached for it with a tissue,
dried her face and cried.
I cried for myself,
for our children and grandchildren,
and for her.
I cried for the deep dark hole
her passing would leave in our lives.

In her last days when her doctors
said there was nothing left
to do, her depression left her.
Sneaking out like a thief
with nothing left to steal.

Her spirit was radiant.
The love she had for her
family and friends
was all she had left.
And it was enough.

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