Coppers

I found that tiny copper kettle you gave me in a box of old, forgotten, once precious things.

Its lid had fallen off but it is still full to the brim with the pennies you had collected. I don't know now quite when you gave it to me. And I can't recall what the pennies were for. I know it was about remembering and yes I had forgotten it.

I picked it up, hard and cold, and I knew how much thought and time you had put into it - and I know there was love and care though I can hardly bare to bring it to mind. I guess it was when we shared our pain, more pain that we could bare - you were thanking me and I had no words for my thanks.

It was a token of your remembering the closeness we shared. I guess its more than 30 years now since you put that pot together. Its been sitting in a box, always with me, found occasionally and soon forgotten once again.

I couldn't hold it for the sadness. There is no week that passes since that time that I don't think of you. I wonder do you ever think of me or why you filled that small kettle? And yes, when I think of you and that time it hurts - hurts for the thought of you, the loss of you, and for the pain I had then too.

I offered understanding and friendship and I see now the conditions I applied. Understanding and friendship were easy to offer and mine to give and with them I gave you an obligation that you did not accept. You left it and me far behind.

And you gave me that tiny copper kettle carefully filled with pennies. A gift for remembering and then you let me go. Perhaps I should do the same - say stop, put the pennies towards a beer and drink you farewell.