Thursday, April 23, 2009

Packing for a Spring Funeral

He called me last night in hysterics
and told me his father was dead

I couldn’t believe it at first
being as it was untimely or at least, without warning.

It felt like answering a 911 call,
the suddenness, the gravity, the fear & the sorrow,
struck me all at once.

I tried to focus on the words,
I tried to make sense of their meaning,
I tried to console him,
but it was like the phone was suddenly a hot rock in my hands,
that I couldn’t let go of for the life of me.

I never know what to say in unreasonable situations;
I can’t tell lies or restrain my sympathy.

I never can stop apologizing for pointless tragedies.

I asked if he needed anything & he invited me to the Funeral.


I was talking about him this morning,
and about how I could scarcely imagine his pain,
about how important it was to be there by his side.

I was talking about him and then I was talking about myself.

I said I’d spent my whole life
trying to be a better man than my father
and how he don’t recognize me now when we meet.

He can’t see any of himself in me
and I should feel accomplished for meeting my goals,
but I don’t.

I still just want it all to have never happened.

I would rather be the son of a man who didn’t want me,
than the son of nobody at all.

I cried like a ten year old,
I choked as much of it down as I could
and I felt like some kind of idiot,
breaking down for the loss of a father,
who wasn’t even mine in the first place.


I had to go out to the mall and buy a new suit,
last Funeral I went to was my Grandfather’s in a country church,
it was another Spring Funeral,
but I wore a light linen jacket, cream colored shirt, slacks & a tie.

The linen jacket doesn’t fit me any longer,
and I don’t feel comfortable in any of my own clothes.

2 comments:

  1. i pend too much time
    entertaining fears of death

    i finally had to tell someone
    i have urges to step in front of cars
    sometimes

    i was a wreck.


    the whole thing seemed ridiculous
    like how i never thought i’d do it
    but i can’t shake the urge to anyway

    or how i lose sleep about
    choking to death while dreaming

    the whole thing is uncalled for
    like how i plan for an untimely demise
    at least once a year.

    i told my sister.
    i’ve been over the whole thing twice.

    like twice matters.

    but telling a stranger
    made the whole thing real.
    in a scary way. like …
    i never thought crazy was real
    until i had to finally say it was true.

    loss is like that.
    it’s not real until you say it is.
    until then, it’s easy to swing on the front porch
    sip lemoncella and shoot the shit.

    as long as you don’t have to
    hear that voicemail
    look at that picture
    remember that time
    you did that thing
    and how you said
    you’d be back
    next summer

    summer’s almost here.

    ReplyDelete
  2. You weren't a wreck
    but a wreck waiting to happen

    I don't try & mistake Death for it's effect
    & I know we talk about loss alot
    like a missing fraction
    & in it's absence we feel less like ourselves

    Nobody ever thinks
    about the people they know's existence
    as true or untrue
    they leave that up to storybook Heroes
    but when one of them dies
    I think most people without knowing
    realize that no matter how indisputable
    our presence is on this Earth
    it's a fact that can never be true again

    ReplyDelete