Burial

My father was buried December the 12th

Forty plus one years ago.

My memory, grief-tinged, is sketchy at best,

But one small occurrence I know.

We got to the chapel in separate cars

And just before heading inside,

I glanced all around to make sure all were there,

That each mourner had gotten a ride.

But someone was missing - I looked high and low

Yet my father was not to be found.

Then it hit me, like somebody smacking my face -

We were there to put him in the ground.

It’s so hard to accept someone so full of life

Bring snuffed like a candle’s last flame.

Though we learn to go on and the memories help, 

Still, life never will be quite the same.