On a lazy Sunday,
I sit in the sun,
reading a book by the swing.
Some shadows watch over
the unturned page,
and me,
if I fall asleep.
There is this crowd that walks with me
when I walk alone.
Some dear ones sit around the table,
When I sit alone.
On a tired day, I sit by the fire.
In my head are some forgotten words
of a harvest song.
I hum that tune.
Off tune.
A chorus sings along.
When I sing alone.
This crowd is not of strangers.
They have names and I know them.
Warm breath, and warm hands.
So close I held them.
My first dog.
Then the other one.
A bird, a mouse,
some dear patients, a mentor,
a friend or two.
A dear uncle and an aunt,
a sister, a brother,
a grandma, a dad,
and yes, some children too.
As I smell a flower and look at the sky full of rain,
as I read a book or cook a meal,
they walk around me-
loving, chatting noiselessly.
They didn’t pass, and I didn’t move on.
Moving with me is the crowd.
At the stove, there is a familiar smell:
a recipe I know so well.
Grandma.
On another day,
the floor has my cut hair
falling to the ground.
It’s a shade of black and brown.
I have seen these colors and felt that exact hair run through my fingers.
I combed it back and kissed a head, to which I said
‘now go play’.
My child.
I laugh at a joke in the Reader’s Digest
and a dad seems to lean back on his chair,
trying to catch his breath,
laughing just like that.
My father.
I tease a friend and know those words
those that I said before.
Retold stories,
shared memories.
Old friends.
They don’t move on, neither do I.
Moving with me is this crowd.
It could be painful
if I try to let them go,
like a part of me.
It’s crazy but comfortable
when I let them stay.
They are a part of me.
This crowd around me
The crowd helps me stand straighter,
hold my head higher,
extend my hand to a firm handshake
or to wipe a tear.
I don’t hold the memory
neither do I cry anymore.
I live and laugh loudly
quite like before.
They wait around,
Just in case I need a story,
Just in case I need a laugh
Or flavors of sips of tea.
They live with me,
the posthumous crowd.
Manisha Singh, M.D., is an Associate Professor in the Department of Internal Medicine in the College of Medicine at UAMS.