Today my son Matthew would be thirty years old if he had not been killed in 2004 at the age of twenty-two. The poem below was written on what would have been his twenty-fifth birthday. It’s still significant today.
Today he would be twenty-five
if from that crash he did survive.
He would be here and still alive,
if he had not gone for that drive.
The graveyard holds no mystery,
for sadness follows misery.
His life is now a history
of memories ever haunting me.
I ‘oft can hear his clear demand,
his trumpet blasting in the band;
his guitar vibrant in his hand;
while laughing loudly in the stand.
I long to see him here today
and celebrate just one more way
to touch and hug, and hear him say,
“I understand” and “It’s okay.”
And yet I don’t quite understand
just why his short life had to end.
It is so hard to comprehend
that life on earth is just a lend.
It’s just so hard…
A free copy of my book It’s My Time to Grieve will be offered on the BookClubNetwork from May 19-21. Check it out.