poem: Little Big Man

Christmas poem for my aunt, on the loss of her son earlier this fall

But don't you see, he is always here,

with us?

He lives in everyone who loved him,

all their interactions with him

that shaped the depth of their own lives,

including yours.

For a mother passes not through the world

unaffected by her children

regardless of how long she has with them.

Love is a two-way street

and memories immortalize the recipient

and giver both

in crystal drops that I imagine fall

as snowflakes in Heaven.

For what is Heaven without a perfect place

to play in the snow

without ever getting your feet cold?

 

Fetus, son, brother, cousin, friend, protector-

lover, fighter, prankster, fiancee, dad:

Not defined by worldly roles, but perhaps understood

all the more in context of them.

Even as the essence lives on

in each little reminder

that brings you joy and sorrow

as you recall your little big man

in moments small and great-

ball games, Hendrix and Floyd;

living forever each time someone

successfully

 plays a practical joke

or hugs like there is no tomorrow.

Because sometimes, there is not.

 

I think he knew that-

this summer, the last time we spoke,

he mentioned

being ready for a journey.

Perhaps in a dream he received an invitation

to share the stage with some heroes

or maybe someone

somewhere else

needed his smile

more than we did. Even so

I believe

he is here, with you,

in the hearts of all of us who he loved

and who were honored

by the precious gift

of his short life.

He will always be.

 

 

 

 

Author's Note

My 39 year old cousin Todd had a heart attack while driving on September 4, and died of his injuries. His loss was a sudden raw wound for our family. He was a gentle giant who had suffered health problems his entire life, and I will always remember him as my protector in HS and my best friend's first love. I spent the day after his funeral with his mother, my Aunt Marilyn, reminiscing about his short and very loving life. At one point she lamented, "by Christmas, there will never have been a Todd." A mother's grief is her own, of course, to endure as she will, but I respectfully disagree with her on this point. His life touched many people, and he will always live on for that.

Miss you, big "brother." May all of us remember you fondly in this Christmas season you loved so much. I cannot imagine anyone else wearing the Santa hat.

Reviews

[New Dawn]

I can feel your how raw your pain still is.I lost my only brother so I recognise the essence of this poem very well. It is so true that our loved ones live on in each and every thing we do. No family occasion goes by without the sharing of memories and each recalled memory acts as a salve to the painful reality of his loss. Beautifully written. So sorry for your loss.

[gombeggar]

yes

[emmajoy]

Your words are more than beautiful, more than heartbreaking. It's virtually irrelefvant to comment about your poetry or to emphasise any part of the hurt you and Todd's family must be feeling, specially his darling mother. All i can do is to confirm - because of personal experience, that ' he will always be' .. he will.

(Rachael)