|Simone Ruyters - her brushes, one of her paintings|
The First Days of My Life without You
The first day of my life without you
I cannot believe it has happened,
Your eyes are closed, your lips don’t move,
You will never smile at me again.
You look so serene in your sleep. Are you still breathing?
I stare at the brown-striped blanket covering your body,
I think I see the cotton threads moving slightly,
But nothing moves.
The second day of my life without you,
The lid comes down over your face.
The Church is dark and peaceful, flowers cover your bier.
This is the last time we are together.
Outside the sun has lit up the spring sky,
Rome looks the way you have always loved it,
You are carried out by four men in a silvery car,
You are gone and I’m left with my tears.
The third day of my life without you,
I see in your house all the things you have loved,
I want to leave them the way they always were,
Yet I cannot, life must go on.
I find your paint box in a corner where you used to work,
The paint has dried in the tubes, unusable.
On the table, your brushes are crowded in pots,
Wooden stems sticking up, like dead flowers.
I don’t want to throw anything out.
I look at your paintings around me, on the walls,
Silent witnesses of your life, they live on.
But I have something more, my memories of you,
Special moments between a mother and her daughter,
Moments that only you and I have lived through,
Moments that will live on as long as I do,