To My Auntie Cely

To my Auntie Cely
Who visits my Uncle Lito every week
Without fail
Brings him flowers, a message, a prayer

To my Auntie Cely
Who visits my uncle every week
For how many years now
I’ve lost count-seven, eight, nine?
Long after he was gone

Yes, my Uncle Lito
Who in his waning years
Could hardly remember anyone
Or anything, but her
And in some rare days my cousins

Yes, my Uncle Lito
Whom she visits every week
After church, her Sunday ritual
To let him know she has not forgotten
Bringing him stories of their children
And grandchildren

She speaks to him, sometimes softly sings to him
Is he listening? Does he hear?
Does he even... remember?
It doesn’t matter
She visits him
She sings
She will always forever love him

by Sonya Florentino

Comments (2)

This is a very moving poem. It is written simply, without overstating the anguish. You're right, it is the carer who suffers the most - and yet it is her love that ensures the one she loves some continuity, however tenuous. I'm glad she sings to him. Apparently, the part of the brain that remembers by rote is the last to fade. I also like the way you refer to them as Auntie and Uncle, it reinforces the sense of 'family' and belonging. A beautiful poem. Love, Allie ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥
Deeply touched, Sonya. Your Auntie Cely is a rare and beautiful soul. Flowers and memories. This love is indeed forever. Warm regards, Sandra