Remembering
Today is a very tough day for some friends of mine. They're spending the day remembering a lost son...a friend...a brother.
I am remembering one soldier who voluntarily gave everything he had. Three years in, it still humbles me and makes me thankful. I still cannot imagine the depth of loss that my friends feel.
What People Give You
by Kathleen Sheeder Bonanno
Long-faced irises. Mums.
Pink roses and white roses
and giant sunflowers,
and hundreds of daisies.
Fruit baskets with muscular pears,
and water crackers and tiny jams
and the steady march of casseroles.
And money,
people give money these days.
Cards, of course:
the Madonna, wise
and sad just for you,
Chinese cherry blossoms,
sunsets and moonscapes,
and dragonflies for transcendence.
People stand by your sink
and offer up their pain:
Did you know I lost a baby once,
or My eldest son was killed,
or My mother died two months ago.
People are good.
They file into your cartoon house until it bows at the seams;
they give you every
blessed
thing,
everything,
except your [child] back.
I am remembering one soldier who voluntarily gave everything he had. Three years in, it still humbles me and makes me thankful. I still cannot imagine the depth of loss that my friends feel.
What People Give You
by Kathleen Sheeder Bonanno
Long-faced irises. Mums.
Pink roses and white roses
and giant sunflowers,
and hundreds of daisies.
Fruit baskets with muscular pears,
and water crackers and tiny jams
and the steady march of casseroles.
And money,
people give money these days.
Cards, of course:
the Madonna, wise
and sad just for you,
Chinese cherry blossoms,
sunsets and moonscapes,
and dragonflies for transcendence.
People stand by your sink
and offer up their pain:
Did you know I lost a baby once,
or My eldest son was killed,
or My mother died two months ago.
People are good.
They file into your cartoon house until it bows at the seams;
they give you every
blessed
thing,
everything,
except your [child] back.