Chris's father Fred wrote these poems after Chris died at the Roswell Clinic in Buffalo.
Holding hands
Smooth, cool, grayish yellow with purple knuckles
Cool and heavy with smooth nails
I held his hand, caressed the backs of his fingers with my thumb
Heavy and cool
Not cold, not wet
Limp and cool
His hand
I held it
And I wept
The Healer
She was quiet and walked delicately
“Hard to understand, it’s nonlinear” she said
She walked into the room to touch my dying son
To guide the flow of eternal energy
And save his waning life
“I see…over him”, “warmth flowing..”
An eternal hour, waiting,
“Green”, she said
Cash in hand she walked into the night
My son died on November second
I lost him in the mist three days before
Then it was 45/35
43/35
42/32
40/35
his heart was beating
then night came
Chris
He was too big to get my arms around
And I had to look up at him.
With energy contagious
father and lover
companion to my uncertainties
how do I remain his father
I had to, had to, had to, had to, had, had, had
to
to
o
As Uncle Ben said, "Make Do"
I am rereading the tributes for Chris, the terror of the ICU, Lunde playing taps, and breaking down occasionally. soul taps. Do I erase Chris' number from the cell phone? Do I not erase his number? The pictures that I took of him in the ICU to took to laugh with him after he got better. I want to erase them from the computer, but I can't, and I don't want to lest I forget what really happened and think his is just away. It really did happen. He is Dead forever. The echoing of absence, the emptiness of everything. But then I am also a little thirsty and get some apple juice. Can't be sad all the time, sometimes you need a drink. I know that is what he would have wanted. Would have...would have ....would have wanted? That's my best guess. Suppose it's wrong? So what. We are talking eternity on the other side of the seesaw. I can feel the my brain having a private discussion and groping for traction. It's all beyond my consciousness. A temporary insanity that is different from feeling bad. You can feel the brain cycling, not emotion but an intellectual looping dizziness. Feelings...in a sense an independent person, feelings that could get you incarcerated if they kept going. A major disconnect. What do I do? I fall back on my uncle Ben, an uncle that Chris never knew. An unlicensed plumber in Brooklyn, Uncle Ben would take on a project and if he ran out of the right parts, he would "Make do". He taught me to make do. I taught Chris to make do. One of the family heritages I managed to pass on to Chris...when he was Chris. "Make do." If you don't have the tools to do it ,"Make Do." That is what I apply and share with Chris...we make do.
Chris' Dad,5 months later.
unimaginable natural catastrophes
after the storm
the up-rooted almond tree
never recovers
The Transition
From person to body.
The person’s gone,
The body remains.
The body, a lump,
The person warm, alive.
A future for the person
None for the body.
I grope for a way to smooth the transition.