Where the Tall Grass Bends

— t r a b o c c o

Preface

57 Years Ago — The Letter

I’ve stared at this envelope for years.
Folded. Soft-edged. Yellowed with time.

I should’ve burned it, buried it, left it sealed.
But today, at your grave, I’ve run out of reasons not to open it.

So here it is.
The wish you wrote when we were young.
Before we knew what wishing would cost.

On the boardwalk,
a week before our marriage…
I still see your youth,
eyes wide… that smile,
hair pulled back in a bun.
The waves
roaring in the distance,
covering the pinball sounds;
the smell of cotton candy…
the thick salt air.

My hands are trembling, Belinda.

I’m opening it now.

Charlie,

I love you.

My dream is simple:
That we live together,
raise a family,
grow old —
like that couple we saw
on the pier today,
hands clasped as if time itself
had bound them.

Smiling.
Walking.
Sun above,
sea beside.

I just have one wish.
It might sound silly.

I hope I go first.
Not because
I want to leave you,
but because
I can’t imagine a day
in this world
without you.

What does a young girl know?

Maybe too much.
Or maybe just enough.

Forever,
Belinda

 --

Where the Tall Grass Bends

I lost her.
Here at the grave.

The ground is fresh,
the stone not yet set,
and my chest
feels as hollow
as the dirt
they laid you in.

I don’t know.
I don’t know what to do.
I miss you.
God, I miss you.
What now.

The world didn’t stop.
Not even a pause.
Birds still fly.
Engines still turn.
Neighbors still wave
like nothing happened.

But I did.
I stopped.
Everything inside me froze,
like the clock forgot my name.
But the sun still rose
for the places I’ll never see,
for the towns I'll never visit.

I remember the last time
I held your warm hand…
you were asleep,
and you never woke again.
I know life is eternal—
no God, nowhere,
would give a man that final touch
only to steal it from him forever.
I’m crying hard now, my love.
This is just a little tougher
than keeping me away
from those
warm croissants in Paris...
Ha... light humor,
"a remedy from the gods"
as you would say.

The world is black and white now, Belinda.

Truth—our favorite secret line
Smile. Pause. Truth.
Truth is... I wonder if I should
get in that hole with you.

After 57 years together
I'd fallen to love
even your wounds.
To let my fingertips
travel
that faint silver scar
across your thigh…
Such
love
could
shatter
constellations.

You always said
I’d be the one
to fall apart first.
Well, you win.
You win again, Belinda.

--

“Hey, Charlie,
you gonna be okay?”

“Hey, thanks for coming, Dan.
Yeah, I’ll be alright.”

“Of course...
We loved Belinda.
Okay, you hang in there, pal.
You have a ride home?”

“Yeah, I’m good. Thanks, Dan.”

A gentle hand on my shoulder.

“Father Albert… how are you?”

“Oh Charlie,
no pleasantries needed.
I’ve buried more people
than a man should.
My love for God
has done much good,
but perhaps
robbed me of some tears.

Remember this, my friend:

Love writes itself
into the ordinary.
When the beloved is gone,
grief teaches you
to find them again—
in memory,
in ritual,
in the smallest things
that bend the world
back into color.

Be well, Charlie."

 --

People are already
looking out for me.

... I’m no longer the friend...
just the widower.

The word doesn’t even sound real.
It doesn’t fit in my mouth.
Like chewing plastic.

Couldn’t you have done this
when I was young?
Oh, I already take that back.
I didn’t mean it, Belinda.
Oh, I’m sorry, my love…

Our life…
it was so good.
It’s just...
now...
I’m an old man.

Oh, there goes the cars.
Long line of them, Belinda.
You were so loved...
...I wonder if, for them,
they’ll go back to life.
I guess so.
Can’t blame them.

But for me…
this is, wow—this is a break.
A loss.
What a loss.

Tears.
I’m sorry to cry, B, my girl…
oh my B… why.

Damn. I’m so sorry.
Of course, no tissues—
you’d always
carry them for me.

Oh, well.
...
This day...

I found your hair
in the sink this morning.
A single strand.
It gutted me.

I almost left it there—
a single gray thin curve
in the shape of an S.
But I carried it in my hand
like it was you,
afraid the wind might take it.

Oh, doves...
Look at that... I wonder if those are
the fat ones from our yard?
Yeah... I guess not.

Anyway, it's a nice graveyard.
But the flowers, Belinda—
all lilies, no life in them.
You’d tell them to rip them out
and plant tomatoes instead.

But overall, it's pretty.
An old wooden bench nearby...
I'll pack lunch and sit there in the future.

And that reminds me… the old fox!
He was back again this morning.
I saw him while buttoning my shirt.
I’m not chasing him off anymore.
I think too much of you saying,
“Charlie, look, look — he’s back, so pretty.”
My eyes see a feral little creature with teeth.
Yours saw wonder.
You taught me reverence, B.
So today I stood still,
let him nose through the garden,
and for a breath, a moment in time,
the world took on color again...
a splash of red, a flicker of orange,
and the black and white of grief loosened its grip.

God, I just blew my nose so loud
that those bird's flew away.
You'd have laughed.
At least they flew away together...
That image hurts.

Oh Belinda, my love… my B…
this is difficult.
It feels so bad,
my wife, my love.

Better than these past months...
....the end can be so cruel.
It makes this a little easier...
...to see you free.

No more suffering my girl.
The world is yours again.
Time is no longer a
concern. You are
free to be you
once more.

The house is still
full of your touch.
Every drawer I open
feels like I’m trespassing
through your life; your absence.

I made the bed.
I know, Belinda, I know...
Sheets tucked tight, just as you like.
The pillow cases had the faint scent of your skin.
I won't be washing them anytime soon.

I made sandwiches—so no worries.
I’ll eat today, love.
I have bologna and cheese,
your favorite.

And yes, I have plans
to tackle those dishes.
Every neighbor
dropped off a casserole...
Grief, it seems,
arrives covered in cheese.
If sorrow doesn’t finish me,
the butter and starch will.

The dog is at the neighbors,
so don’t worry.
I found his old purple leash,
tangled amongst your things—
smells like you,
like June.

Ugh… okay.
I guess I'll be going.
Big tears again.
Damn you…
damn you, God.

I wonder if you could visit soon.
I told you—no scaring me.
But maybe just in my dreams to start.
Oh hell, I don’t care
if you jumped out of the casket
I’d take you.

I keep checking shadows
like you might be there,
just waiting to scold me
for forgetting your umbrella.

Oh… to hear your voice.

I’ll miss you
until I’m with you, I guess...
How do people do it?

I feel bad now…
for all that have lost,
and I just drove by
thinking about fixing a fence
or something benign like that.

And now I realize
this pain is unbearable.

Okay… I got to go…
get the dog.
I forgot to send food with him.

I'm thinking
you’ll now say something,
smile and laugh with me
for forgetting his kibbles again.

Silence answers instead,
heavy as stone.

I’ll walk Old Sam.
Our furry pal.

I’ll take him on our path,
by the pond’s south edge,
where the sun rests
through the clearing
left by the fallen tree.

soft...
...quiet

We could walk,
just you and me.
No rushing ahead this time.
I hear you even now,
“Charlie, what’s better than us,
that you’d need to rush?”

I’d stay beside you, in your stride.
That’s what the boy didn’t know,
what the young man missed,
and what this old man
was lucky enough
to learn in time.

The most successful thing
a man can do
is walk at the pace of love.

When I walk our path again,
I’ll walk at dusk
between the fabric
of day and night,
so I could feel
a moment
that belongs
to neither...
only to us.

I'll walk
where the
shadows
can loosen
long enough
that memory
might step though.

B...

Maybe I’ll keep talking
out loud to you.
That’s not crazy, right?
It’s just…
unfinished conversation.

Oh my...
what is the stream of pain.
It’s rush is too much
for an old man to bear.

So many good years.

I don't really
want to leave you alone,
in dirt.
We've never slept apart.

To think of living this life
without you...
impossible.

I wore the wrong shoes today.
You’d have spotted it instantly,
whispered “Charlie…”
Now who’s going to save me
from myself? Ha.

But really...
What's a dove to do
when his partner vanishes?

I see you in the grass,
in the trees,
in my own suit
that you took the time
to take to the cleaners.

It isn’t just you I lost, Belinda.
It’s the map.
The hours mean nothing now—
they drift like smoke,
untethered from the clock.
Yesterday leans into tomorrow,
and I stumble through both,
searching for the hand
that once kept me steady
in the dark.

How can I go home…
my love.

I miss you.
I miss you.

Goodbye, my girl.

But if you’re listening—
I’ll leave the porch light on.
Just in case.

Maybe light itself remembers you—
and that’s why it always falls on
our path... by the pond's edge
...where the tall grass bends.

Forever,
Charlie