EASTER MORNING

Sarah J. Blake

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On Easter morning at 4:45,
I went and took my place beside her bed.
Her breath, no longer labored and forced,
Was shallow, but expectant of what lay ahead.
On Easter morning at 4:49,
My aunt was telling my uncle to bring the girls.
We tried to sing "I'm Never Alone,"
But choked and couldn't remember the words.
On Easter morning at 4:55,
Her hand, which I was holding, seemed to grow cold.
Her breath was very soft and slow.
My uncle did not want to hang up the phone.

On Easter morning at 5:05,
My grandfather wrote in the journal the family had kept:
"She left this earth to be with God,"
And Mom gathered all the pillows with which she had slept.

For Ferne Erickson