The Poem
It’s a little ironic that Sue wrote this poem about a dear friend that died and now the same poem applies so perfectly to her.
The Picture
To me, November is a dark month. It’s the month of Remembrance Day, my mother’s passing, Sue’s passing, as well as several others. This portrait of my father is painted from a photo taken on the day of my mother’s funeral…in November.
Lucky Me Unlucky You
Should I say that I loved you and nobody’s above you
or say that it wasn’t that way
All the times we drove home and we laughed and we cried
Now my dear friend has died
And I still can’t believe that you’re gone
No one that had known you could say that without you
the world would be better that way
I still can’t believe that you’re gone
You were so damn good thought you’d be the son
To get that first knock out round one
Now it’s all undone
Should that be the last time I ever would see your face
How did you ever leave such a space
Never thought that would be the last time
Life’s so strange and people do change
and you’re never sure what you’ll get
Life’s rearranged now that you took that train
but I thank my stars that we met
You still said I was the best kept secret of anyone you knew
I wasn’t sure
but I thought that the only one who could see me was you
And that came true
We’re just calls that never got through
By: Susan Michaud
“The Widower” By: Sylvia Arthur