A recent post by a friend of mine brought back a painful memory.
"When I was 14, just a little over two months before [Rob] would have graduated from high school, he was killed. I hadn’t talked to him for some time when I just had this overwhelming need to call. His mom answered the phone and told me that earlier that day he had gone out to buy a motorcycle. As he was driving it home, he somehow lost control and wrapped himself around a telephone pole. I was frozen and utterly speechless."
My best friend in high school was pulled off a platform by a passing train and died. Getting that phonecall from my dad was one of the worst moments of my life. Anyhow, I know other folks have lost loved ones unexpectedly. We’re connected by a terrible bond, but we can use it to help each other. At the lowest points of my life I’ve found writing poetry to be very theraputic. I thought perhaps folks still mourning a loss would appreciate this poem that I wrote when my best friend died.
9 AM. 36°. Sleet.
I’m with