You were always inclined to denial.
How well we all knew that stare
looking coldly a little way past us
or into some internal distance,
that vaguing of eyes and voice.
During the day of your dying, I discovered
I had it too, the same inclination.
An inheritance, perhaps?
I walked and I talked in a sort of trance.
This is not happening, I thought. But it did.
Thank you for your comments. I read and appreciate them all, and reply here to specific points that seem to need it — or as I have the leisure. Otherwise I reciprocate by reading and commenting on your posts as much as possible.