Tag Archives: Kenzieville Cemetery

My Heart Is Broken – It Needs Fixing

My book of poems (the first three years) memorializing my son Matthew, who died of a rare heart cancer on March 11, 2017, is now published.

 

Matt book of poems full cover for wp

The book is available on

Amazon

or from me.

I am donating all profits from the sale of this book to the Kenzieville Cemetery, Kenzieville, Pictou County, Nova Scotia, where Matthew is buried. Matthew’s GGGG grandparents, who emigrated from Scotland in 1803, are buried there, as well as several branches of the MacKenzie line. The cemetery is run by volunteers and is always in need of funds.

 

 

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Dear Matt

(Yesterday’s sad event)

 

Dear Matt,

 

We stand before you, burying you again:

Seventeen months after your death,

One day ahead of the first anniversary of your burial,

And tears are as fresh today as then.

 

I’m not in denial—none of us are,

We know you’re gone,

But like a broken record

So many unanswered questions abound.

 

I’m elated to be with your siblings this weekend,

We’re celebrating in style—not!

That’s only an expression

That came to my inebriated mind.

 

Perhaps we’re in reflection mode,

Enjoying each other as we did

When you were with us,

And, oh, how I wish you were here.

 

Perhaps we think of other things:

Sadness, happiness—who knows.

I’m not privy to others’ minds.

I only know mine.

 

We all grieve differently.

Everyone misses you.

Everyone sheds tears

In their own way.

 

We brought Bud Light with us,

We pray, we speak, we remember.

We won’t forget you.

We never will. I never will.

 

I miss you so much, my son,

My middle child,

My only planned child,

Ironically, the only child I didn’t want.

 

A contradiction, for sure (there’s a story there!),

But all turned out okay in the end:

Your birth, your life.

All was okay until I couldn’t save you.

 

I tried.

I tried so hard. With all my might.

I’d do the same for your siblings,

But I’m not God.

 

This world isn’t all about me;

I know that.

I’m just a peon in the universe,

Feeling bereft without one of my children.

 

Existing with a horrid hole,

Quashing aches within my soul,

Searching for a missing puzzle piece

Lost forever.

 

With every breath I miss you,

I shout to the Heavens,

I shriek to God,

How can this be?

 

I want to say, “Rest in peace, my son,”

But that’s such a cliché,

And who knows, really, what you’re doing

Or where you are.

 

No one knows.

No one knows.

Me?

I just want the impossible.

 

RIP, my son.

Rest in peace.

Matt Headstone Kenzieville

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