June 10

There is no year written here

just June 10

because every year it arrives

to find me in a melancholy state of mind

heralding its arrival.

on June 10, 2004

I lost my son,

my first-born child.

We spoke on the telephone

 early that morning;

by evening he was dead

I keep waiting for the time

“it- will- get- easier”

after eight years it has not

so I know it never will.

My sister lost her first-born son

two years earlier

I watch her continue to grieve

I know

I still remember his last words to me

his favorite foods

his music

his eyes that crinkled up at the corners

when he smiled

He loved hot summers

and no rain

he loved motorcycles and barbeques

and butterflies

pretty girls and snakes


cats and dogs

and his family

he loved his mom and dad and brother

we stood side-by-side

the day we gave him his

Viking Funeral at the lake

that summer day

in the rain

his friends were with us

at his side in death

as in life

I know I am not the only

one with a knot in my throat

blinking back hot tears



it is hot and there is no rain

so I decided to barbeque in his honor.






2 thoughts on “June 10

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