Eddie (4)
Helen singing the Gloria like a confident morning bird. Helen now gone to glory. Helen fading from my mind’s ear.
You gotta sing when the devil stops your mouth, she’d say. I can only mumble the words, my done darling, but it’s something. When the devil takes your lungs, you still have to breathe, even if the air is nothing but the smoke of a snuffed out candle.
I know better, but extend my hand toward where she stood by me, and grasp the air her fingers occupied. I clutch the pew back. A few minutes later, I’m reaching again.
