what to say

he calls to tell you
that his mother died. seventy-nine.
heart disease,
unable to walk, to get up
out of bed.
she liked camel
cigarettes
and good scotch you gather
from what he says.
it's an odd conversation.
finding clichés
that sort of fit.
sort of don't.
awkward things are said
about how she had a good life,
a long life, whatever
that might mean.
she was a good mother,
but all of it sounds empty,
hollow and weak.
you hardly knew here,
or her you and you finish
off the talk
by saying, she loved baseball,
didn't she.