For John
I asked you to meet me for lunch,
warning you ahead of time
this might not be
the most fun we’ve ever had.
I said I needed to talk with you
about what’s happening for me.
Beloved son, only child, poor guy,
holder-of-the-bag,
what I needed to tell you,
served up warm,
over Thai food,
was about the recent death
of my dear sister-friend,
how grief had disoriented me,
knocked the hubris out of me,
caused me to wake up
and smell the mortality…
My own death is no longer
something vaguely out there
in a far off, unforeseeable future
Big yellow signs are appearing
along the roadside now
and they’re pointing
to this exit I must take.
It’s not The End.
It’s the place you have
to go through
to get to The End.
I am calling this turnoff
The Dark Wood—
so dark you can’t see
all the ways its rigged
with terrible certainties
and uncertainties.
Your dad and I, as always,
will do our best
to see each other through.
But if your dad dies first
and I am left alone,
I need to ask you now:
Can you be there for me?
With Celiac disease,
Chronic Fatigue Syndrome,
any and all other
issues yet to come,
I’m bound to be
more than a little trouble
as time and age
continue to take their toll.
So I need to know…
…If I’m losing it,
can I count on you
to help me solve problems
I can’t solve on my own?
Can I count on you
to give me your hand
when I’m wobbling
and need to hold on?
You listened,
probably more than
a little wary of what
the actual specifics
will be.
You told me this was
likely to bring up
uncertainties and struggles
of your own.
I knew this to be true,
but could you?
You looked at me
across the table
and said, Yes,
you would.
You would be there for me—
no matter what.
And all the way down
to the deep-down
I knew you would.
A little later,
we stood on the sidewalk
in front of the restaurant,
hugging goodbye.
I said I was going
to walk up the street
to look at shoes—
I assume I’ll still need some
for awhile.
You said you’d walk with me.
I said, No, no, that’s ok,
you don’t have to.
But you insisted…
not with words,
but with your solid,
suntanned, gray-bearded,
shorts-wearing,
pickleball-playing presence
falling in step beside me.
As we started up the sidewalk
I was surprised to find
I was reaching out
to put my arm
through yours.
And I felt you register
this new thing, too,
as you crooked your elbow
to give me a better handle.
The moment was playful,
sweet and deep.
This will be my journey,
but I feel your yes.
You will walk with me
through The Dark Wood
all the way
to The End.
Ann Keiffer
March, 2026
Image Credit: Google Search
