Not Okay

I’m not okay,

I haven’t been okay,

Since my husband dropped dead on 6th December,

What I do remember is that Austin Powers in Gold member, 

Was a movie he watched, one too many times,

All the signs,

Constantly hit me on the head,

That this is one partnership I will dread,

And I did, each time he cracked a potty joke,

Or got home an odd bloke,

His taste in music and food,

Caused many a feud,

I wonder what we saw in each other,

That we had the strength to overcome, one hurdle after another,

Just to be together,

We weren’t birds of the same feather, 

Far from it,

I had a Scooty permit,

While he was a practical, no nonsense four wheel driver,

The Scooty made me a broken arm survivor,

The accident promptly got him home then,

And that’s when,

The questions began to be raised,

My parents were far from amazed,

With his unruly, long curly hair,

Oddly shaped goatee and body structure, similar to a teddy bear,

“No, no and no”,

“He is an average Joe”,

“We’ll find someone far more suitable for you”,

I didn’t have a clue,

About our next move,

Your side of the family sang the same groove,

So did God grant us a life divorce?

And throw us on a different course?

To reinforce the fact,

That the odds were always stacked,

Against us and not for us,

I got ready to come to Bombay Hospital on 6th December, to make a fuss,

And rake a storm with you,

I was glad that you had a fall, the fact that you were working too hard would finally get through,

To that thick skull,

That life without you was so dull,

So please, spend some more time at home,

How am I supposed to step out for work, if you perennially roam?

The last thing I expected was to see you lying dead,

With only your gorgeous head,

Sticking out of that sheet,

It couldn’t be, you would never treat,

Me like that,

It couldn’t be you lying flat,

On a stretcher, in an impersonal corner,

While our son constantly murmured,

“Take me home, mumma”