I remember
the gentle ticking
tick tock tick tock
as Bea tucked me and Collin
into bed
for a good night’s rest.
Goodnight, Bea.
I remember
Christmas dinners
beginning at seven,
whenever we heard
ding, ding, seven times.
Bea made the tea
and added mint from her garden.
I remember
the funeral luncheon;
people from generations
mourning their favorite relative.
Ding! One o’clock,
time to process to the Home
and bury our beloved Bea.
I remember
my mother’s inheritance:
the old Grandfather Clock
my grandmother Bea had.
We can hear every hour’s mark
letting us know how long it has been
since she's been gone.