12/03/12

Fri, 01/03/2014 - 19:29 -- naomi_w

It’s  Monday night.

You’re home tonight.

Rolling your too-small suitcase into the front door,

But something is different, you’re shaking.

You’re silent.

Letting go of your baggage,

 You grab onto us.

I watch it fall onto the floor with a loud bang as if someone pulled the trigger.

“Daddy, what’s going on?” slips out of her mouth.

“Nothing” you say.

But I know something is wrong.

I know you should be at work,

You shouldn’t have to be here.

 

I haven’t seen you in a few days.

Mostly you’re there,

Actually you’re always there.

Helping, Holding, Grieving.

Sometimes the phone rings and it’s you.

“I’ll be home soon, I promise” you say.

But I hear the crying in the background.

The shatter of a glass, ringing through my ears like bullets.

“Mommy, what’s going on?”

“I have to go now”

*click*

You shouldn’t have to be there.

 

And then the day comes.

 

You are sitting in the front row, listening to the speaker.

Speechless sobs surround you,

Yet you are placid.

Family flown in from afar,

Your brother and sister sit silently, eyes closed.

Your mom wipes her tear with a handkerchief given to her by your uncle only moments earlier,

But you are poised, looking forward without emotion.

But I know you are trapped in your own hole of sorrows,

Waiting until the last possible moment to try to climb out.

You shouldn’t have to be here.

 

I am sorry, Mario.

I am sorry you did not see how much you are loved.

I am sorry you couldn’t understand they need you.

She needs you.

We need you.

 

I know our tears will not bring him back.

I know our never-ending anger and frustration,

Our silent screams,

Our cries for help.

I know they are of no use.

 

I know he is in Heaven mommy,

But he shouldn’t have to be there. 

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