THE MISSING

  

  The Missing

There is nothing. Just nothing.

            Oh, many believers in heaven and hell will say,

            “He’s here, watching over you. He’s there when you celebrate his mother’s 60th birthday.”

            He SHOULD HAVE BEEN HERE – he wasn’t.

            He will never – be – anymore.

            So, I say the same insanity.

                        BUT

            I don’t feel it, nor believe.

            Home, after the party

            Something missing – always the same

            There is no boy, no young man of 26 with

            beautiful red hair, an infinite well of potential –

            No young man of sensitivity, love, caring

            No young man making us laugh, saying the unexpected-

                                    usually contrary

     Not exactly – we always expected that                                                                                                                                                 That’s who he was . . .

           

Late night, party over – lying awake, crying

            Crying – something missing – My Boy

            He is – just not –

            I am – becoming not –

            So much alike – yet a great difference

            I found my love – He never had a chance.

            So, I mourn for him still, but, cry not enough

            Mourn for myself – the dead part

            Yet, I still go on – not thinking enough

                                    or

                        thinking too much.

            Four long years – still not enough tears shed –

            Every inch of this house should be dreadfully damp

            This whole town, no! This whole world.

                        Awash with my sorrow –

            Thankfully, tonight the tears gushed.   

            For every joy we try to share –

          there is the missing            

There will always be the missing

Peace out