It wasn’t the first time my mother dropped everything to see her sick mother
but afterwards, we knew it was the last time.

The jewelry box, the scarves - my grandmother collected exquisite things. Her closet consumed my attention;
it made me dizzy just looking at it. White walls, white accents,
white tiles - nothing there to draw the eye away from the clothing.

I was going to give her a new scarf for her
87th birthday, but instead I had to give her flowers.
She collected those for a few days
in the form of wreaths, bundles, bouquets -
good collectors never stop collecting.

Now the crows croak in the distance as my sister and I huddle together in the cemetery 
protecting each other from the cold
settles in and the rain falls in heavy sheets around us.