Letter to Bill
I sat for a while this afternoon
and stared out at the rain
pummeling my deck
and streaming down
the murky window pane.
The amber leaves of the maple tree
above the rooftop next door
are finally letting go.
Twisting and turning
in the blustery wind,
one by one they detach
and silently swirl away.
I miss the glacially slow way
you poured pinot noir
and savored each gourmet bite
as we shared our most intimate thoughts
one man Black, the other white.
We managed our hospital clinic together
and processed our private lives
through separation, divorce,
our teenagers’ strife
and when you finally came out.
But gradually, your failing heart
inched life’s rheostat down
until your quality of life was on the edge
and you knew it was time to let go.
I valued those nights out with you
sharing dreams and bold ideas
but mostly I miss
your deep, belly laugh
raucous and full of life.
Mark Smith, MD
February 10, 2021