The Year of Firsts

The Year of Firsts

Matt candle crop

The year of firsts ends today,

What is this current year?

A year of seconds?

Is there a label for future years?


How did a year pass so fast

And yet so painfully slow?

I relived each day—

Three hundred and sixty-five.


Not wanting to remember,

Not wanting to forget

You walking through the door,

Your smile betraying antics.


We mucked with Mother Nature.

Did we do too much?

Did we do too little?

Guilt consumes my soul.


Flowers withered, trinkets exist,

Photos and memories abound,

Remains encased in silver or bronze

And within a wooden tomb.


A headstone highlights your grave,

Sun dancing upon blue and grey,

But you are as scattered and hidden

As your cans of empty beer.


Nine months I carried you,

Today I carry you ‘round my neck

And within my heart and mind,

Your death etched upon my face.


The first horrid year ends today

But every breath brings more,

You’ll remain an eternal mirage,

Forever unreachable until I die.



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6 responses to “The Year of Firsts

  1. Oh, Cathy, I am so sorry. As my mother said while grieving for my brother, “Parents are supposed to outlive their children.” > Now that the years of firsts is out of the way – and it is the hardest – you might try writing therapy. You could, for example, write a story or novel and base one of the characters on him. You could also write letters to him such as a goodbye letter, or to tell him things you never got to say. I’ll be glad to suggest other methods if it interests you. Writing therapy helps a lot. > I wish I could hug you for real and let you cry your eyes out, but the best I can do is send a big cyber hug. Praying for you. Deb

    Liked by 2 people

    • Thanks, Deb. I’ve been doing lots of writing–therapy I guess–about him. Once I get my novel out of the way, I plan to write a book about our experiences his last couple of months. I write a poem every month on the 11th and post to my Facebook page. I don’t always remember to post it here.

      Liked by 1 person

      • I haven’t been through that heartaches and therefore have no experience in that area, but I do have a suggestion. You said you write a poem on the 11th of every month. Maybe it isn’t a good idea to build a monument to grief. I suggest you eliminate that, or at least change the date. You will never forget, never quit loving or missing him, and of course, life will never be the same again… but like it or not… life does go on. Try to learn how to live again, hon. Make his death a benefit to someone. Suggestions: Instead of mourning on the 11th, why not volunteer at a children’s home, or nursery duty at a hospital, visit lonely residents at a nursing home, help at the Humane Society, etc.? Let the love of your son flow through you to someone who needs it. He would like that, don’t you think? I am so sorry you must travel this road, but since you have no choice, make it count for something good. By giving, you will receive strength to go on. Hugs, and God bless. Deb


  2. Just keep hanging in there. You’ll make it.


  3. Judi Risser

    Sending love each and very day… But today, a little more.

    Liked by 1 person

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