It's been a little while since I shared something here, and it's been even longer still since I shared some poetry. However, it's a particularly important day for me and my family, and it's also the time of year where in among tinsel and sparkle, we can't help but think of the people who should be here but aren't. So, to that end, here's a little poem from me:
We bring you flowers, talk about plans for Christmas
and New Year, still bitter that you can’t be a part of them.
We bring tools from the shed – they were in the garage
but mum’s gone on one of her sprees; you know how she gets.
We bring a Santa Claus figure; the Church says we can’t
put things on the grave but we don’t mind being condemned.
We bring soft sentiments, take turns telling you that you are
missed, loved, still important. It’s our family’s saddest duet.
We bring stories that we’ve lived and ones we imagine
you would have lived, if the world were a little less cruel.
We bring tears, and for mere minutes we rain our grief
on your stone before we carry it home with us;
wherever you are, you already know that you are missed,
loved, always going to be important.