digital tissues

I’ve never been to a funeral before
Black dresses
Mascara tears
To stain your pale lips 
Umbrellas and relatives you’ve never seen before
Everyone holding hands maybe
I’ve been to a zoom meeting before
I’ve been a low quality camera at a funeral
Set up in the dim lights of a church
In the last pew standing on the tripod
Far away from the open casket
I can only catch the hints of him wearing his
Notre Dame 60’ hat
And his sunglasses
I’m ripped away from his stories to fill the rest of my life
The priest gives a special mention
“We even have his family from kentucky here with us today”
Distance is pulling out my organs and tying my intestines into knots
A slow slip into insanity reeks me
What does it matter if I go insane?
I’m on mute and my camera is off
Sitting with my family 
Watching his funeral from a computer
I’m left with an open wound
What I wouldn’t sacrifice for to be in the first pew
To give one last look
To whisper into his ear
“Thank you for all the joy you’ve put into my years”
But I’m here in kentucky wiping my tears with
Digital tissues. 

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