Father's Grave

A poem dedicated to a loyal brother, a devoted son, and a loving father.

Dedicated to my Dad (Oct. 30, 1963 - Oct. 31, 1996)



Empty. Numb. Dead to the world around me. That is what I am. Kneeling on the ground, I stare blankly at the tombstone with unseeing eyes, my mind adrift in a raging tempest of thoughts, thoughts, that I wish I could ignore, thoughts that are slowly breaking down the icy walls surrounding my heart. Memories flashing through my head, all the times I enviously watched children with their fathers, knowing they have what I will never have and what’s more, knowing most if not all of them don’t truly appreciate their father’s having never experienced the grief, the sheer pain of having someone close to them die, with a few exceptions. All the things I will never experience, all of the camping trips. Working on cars. Him standing beside me when I get married to whichever woman will be the woman of my dreams. All of that and so much more I will never know.

The shame, oh the shame, of knowing he would be disappointed in the man I’m becoming. The shame and misery of having no memories of him for I was young, so very young when he died.

Fifteen years. For fifteen years, I’ve wished for my father, and had that wish unfulfilled. For fifteen years, I’ve seen and heard my grandma’s pain at having lost her son, my father. For fifteen years, I’ve visited my father’s grave, and wept at it, pain and sorrow filing the emptiness in my heart.

As the skies rumble and open up, unleashing their watery gift to the world, washing away my tears, washing away my pain and sorrow, I stand up, and walk away, from my father’s grave.

The End

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