Bobby's funeral

(a mother's worst nightmare)

Urbanski's Funeral Home

As I prepare for my son's funeral

all the arrangements made

a blue shirt and a tie

to match his blue eyes

and a pair of tan slacks

Moccasins for his feet.

He is tired.

So am I.

Oh, how I dread today.

It's not suppose to be like this.

Your children are suppose to outlive you, you know?

Well, I guess it doesn't always turn out like that.

He was my first born, my only son.

A good man who died too young.

I am numb and the tears won't come.

The phone kept ringing consistently at home.

I'll bet it's ringing now as I leave the house.

All of his family and friends are in disbelief.

It is so sad he died so tragicly.

I wanted to be the one to identify him,

but everyone is afraid I'll lose it

as I suffer severely with manic depression.

So, to keep everyone at ease I'll let my dear friend Charlie.

He was always there for Bobby and me.

Well, I guess the mortitian did a good job with the make-up.

Charlie said it's okay to view him.

Too bad they don't make drunk driver's do that!

Just a fleeting thought.

Well, here we are at Urbanski's, Jordan is here to greet me at the door.

He is the funeral director and quite the make-up artist.

His kind words and gestures of sympathy are sweet and professional.

The funeral home has flower pots and small trees lining the sidewalk.

The building is sepia brick with white shutters on the windows.

I reach out my hand and turn the golden doorknob, unaware

of what is going on around me, I'm scared.

It takes all that I have to keep walking.

I follow Jordan and Charlie past the stone waterfountain set in the parlor.

Then we come to the hallway, turn right we're getting closer...

I stand at awe in the doorway of the larger room where my son lay,

the coffin is covered with the American flag as he was a U. S. Marine.

He was honorably discharged some years ago, to help out at home.

After his father had died, I needed him deperately back then.

But not as much as I need him now.

So I stand here in this spot, seems like an eternity.

And, I say to Charlie "he looks like a porcelain doll."

Overwhelmed with emotion and disbelief, I reach out

and touch my son's hair as I kiss his cheek and his forehead.

He doesn't really look like himself, just a melancholey shell.

You can tell where they did the work on him, to make him presentable.

Oh yes, I donated his eyes so someone else can see,

now they are sown shut for eternity.

I also donated his bone marrow and skin,

it will help burn victims in the war in Iraq.

I'm shaky and weak at the knees.

But for him, I am as strong as I can be.

This is my son, my only one.

He had no children to leave behind,

but had he lived a longer life, he could have.

He could have had him a wife.

Those dreams are gone.

So I reach out now, and I touch his folded hands.

Of course, they are cold, but so purple...

probably from clenching his fist at the impact

when the car crash occurred.

Even the make-up doesn't hide this.

I lay my head lightly upon his chest, and say a prayer.

I think I spoke out loud, and asked him to please wake up.

But, he can't.

So I place a dreamcatcher that I made over his heart.

A few tears fall and soon I depart.

Reviews

[incarnated deception]

your amazing , truly amazing
i wish i could say i feel your pain but it is to great of a feeling for me to bare
you have braught tears to my eyes
im sorry for your loss
beautiful x

[Pax Analog]

Courageous recall of an impossibly grievous occasion.

I remember delivering a eulogy at a close friend's funeral. Then, I remember feeling moved to affirm strongly the core value of his life to me.

That is all any of us can do when a loved one's life is cut short. The core value leaps out, as well as a fierce reminder of the mortality of us all. It is just such an edge that drives mystic realization. Many do not get an opportunity to contemplate infinite Life beyond form. Before catastrophe strikes, or just the usual slow fade -- find out as much of what IS as possible. Even against the odds of our own infirmities, we CAN know redemptive grace, not necessarily religious, but inherently.

Your mother's lament is recalled with courage and grace.

[pinksnowboots]

I am so sorry for your loss. This is a wonderful poem, so full of emotion. It brought tears to my eyes. I am so sorry for what you are going through. I cannot imagine being in your place.

[Shellie]

Firstly I would like to offer my deepest condolonces. And second this is a fantastic poem, the tone you use sounds 'defeated'if that maks sense? Its like even though you know your son is gone you feel the weariness at trying to truly believe its true. The RSA in Ireland are doing ad's on telly featuring parents who have lost their children in road deaths and a man from my village is in one talking of his son James who was hit by an articulated lorry on his way home from his Graduation ball. Your son died as result of a drinkdriving accident? This poem will always remind you of his funeral but its a fantastic piece and a part of his death that you needed to overcome.

[Sel Whiteley]

This was astounding, what a beautiful elegy. It brought tears to my eyes. I am so sorry for your loss.

[Anarda Nashai]

I could feel the emotion coming off of the screen as I wrote this. This is an incredible read...sad, but very appropriate for the situation. Another great poem by you...keep em commin!!!!

[Chaos]

I can't imagine walking into the funeral home and seeing my child lying there; still. I think I would have said the same thing as you "please wake up" and pray you can hear them talking to you in that chatty manner they always seemed to do. Your donations of your son's organs was so selfless. Often in times of pain and grief, such thoughts are too tragic to consider, but then again that shows me what type of person you and your son are and I'm gratefult to have you let me into your world at least for a few stanza's.

[Laura E. Aranda]

Your work is tragicly real
I am surprised you can even cope with writing it unless writing is the way you cope
You once again have immortalized your son
thru your written words

You have a few misspellings in this poem
Iraq is with a'q' not a 'c'misspellings are so easy to make though...anyway thanks for asking me to read
this sad sad poem

cheers to you
lea

[QuietPoet]

Tears formed in my eyes when I read this, I am deeply sorry for your loss. Thanks for sharing.

[Pointblank]

What strength it must have taken to even put these feelings on paper. Tears welled up and Im amazed I got thru it all. Very touching. Thank You for sharing this. Very well done.