Whose loss is it?
I lie here in my selfish grief
unable to move, in a heap on the floor
But what of the one who’s life was lost?
What of Jamie?
Isn’t he the one who should be most saddened?
Didn’t he lose the touch of my hair?
The taste of pancakes at Denny’s?
The voice to say words like:
“I Love You” and “First I gotta go poop”
He’s the one who will not get to jump off my back, or spend hours playing in water,
or stubbornly refuse to go to bed until he can wear all his karate gear under his pajamas.
Grief is selfish for sure
And of course, I hope he does not suffer
But doesn’t he more than we have the right?
So many like to think and say
That such longing is only for those left here on earth
But no one can say it with certainty,
For death is a mystery,
We do not really know if life is longed for when the body can no longer sustain it.
And for one so young,
So suddenly removed,
I can’t help but wonder and even fear
that he wishes it different.
That he would like a chance to watch Sponge Bob once again
while curled in his parents arms,
eating a peanut butter and jelly sandwich
May 26, 2003
Copyright 2003 Elene Bratton