One day I will miss you in a happy way
One day I will not remember you with pain, or remember your pain
And the bottles of drugs that couldn’t take it away
One day I will forget the strong urge I had to slap the innocent guy
Who pulled that sheet over your face, how dare he?!
One day I will see bright pink fuchsia
And not think of that classy final outfit selected by me and you
One day I will listen to a jazz record and not think of you
And your tales of youthful fun before we came along; miniskirts, afros and motor bike rides
One day I will only feel amused at your attempts to do the Macarena
And not wish we could take a salsa class together, I know you would have loved Yoga
One day I will be able to refrain from imagining you with your granddaughters
As I look into their eyes and listen to their sweet high voices just like yours
One day I will stop myself imagining what a fabulous jaja you would have been
And all the mummy wisdom I wouldn’t have to figure out on my own
One day I will stop missing your wicked sense of humour, teasing and pranks
One day I will not feel a pang when I think of something you would have found funny
One day I will stop missing our Sunday afternoon naps and boy talk
Shopping trips, cooking delicious concoctions, discussing Netanyahu and Arafat
One day I will be able to look at your final resting place, and not feel desperately alone
One day I will be able to tell God that I understand why you had to go
One day I will draw comfort from the thought that we will meet again some day
But not today. It may be 16 years since you left.
But not today.