Mourning Alone
My dad’s death hit me
like a sudden, howling wind.
I was a sapling ripped
from the ground, roots
dangling. My mom,
true to her nature, refused
to be bent, and left me
to right myself.
You can’t just fall to pieces.
She wouldn’t look back.
I couldn’t see forward.
That’s when daddy began
to slip into my dreams. I would
run to him, he would
scoop me up. That joy! That
deliverance from grief. Awake
I was as much a ghost as he was,
waiting for him
to walk in the door and ask,
Where’s my little Kit?
And where was I?
8 thoughts on "Mourning Alone"
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A heart rending narrative with startlingly sharp imagery. Strong work from beginning to end. Where are any of us in times of such devastating loss?
.the power play between you and your mom over the boundary of grief
.if someone exists in your dreams they exist
.as maurice manning says:
“dont let a pity poke your heart”
Makes me wonder if I was too scared of all the pieces one can fall too, to really understand what my children were suffering.
Poems that make us take stock are worth
their weight in gold and more.
Bruce
Poignant and well-written, sapling/dangling, lots of good images and sounds
Thank you all for your comments. My mom did what she had to do to keep herself going. I think she was trying to show me how to be strong. She didn’t understand that I needed comfort, something she had always left up to my dad.
This is wonderfully written. Thank you for sharing this.
Kathleen – This poem is a roller coaster of feelings for the poet and the reader. “I was as much a ghost as he was” – a wow moment. The final question just keeps ringing in my ears!
Oh, Kathleen. So gorgeous and real and heartbreaking.