My great aunt
she spoke no English
By choice? I think not
Because simple questions or greetings
Provoked blank looks.

My great uncle
he spoke no English
By choice
Because in a moment of sorrow
He told me of his feelings
But I never heard him speak English again.
On his deathbed
My words strangled and choked by disuse
Falling out in staccato rhythym
But another there
Who spoke the language he wanted to hear.

I remember her first
As a distrustful three-year-old
Come to our house for the holidays
All watchful eyes
Olives and pickles and pepperoni and cheese slices
Jammed into pockets when she thought no one saw.
A start at the sight of me.
I pull a box of sandwich bags from the pantry
and fill bag after bag with cookies
She refuses to take her coat off.

They go to senior housing.
She goes with them.
Either no one sees
Or no one says anything.
She goes to school.
They help her with her homework.

My family talks in hushed voices
In their/my language
Her mother has been gone now for a month
What else can they do?
At Christmas, my frugal great uncle is extravagent
Buys her a learning toy with buttons and lights
She will only clutch it to her chest
And shake her head.

When great aunt dies
She is there, in the background
Trying to be invisible
Amidst the swell of family.

I don’t know if anyone consoles her for her loss.

She is there when I grope for words
At great uncle’s bedside.
She is the one who can speak his language
But when he dies, she simply disappears.

I don’t know her real name.
I know her only by the name they gave her
and now that person is gone.