EULOGY

I’d anticipated the call
ever since I’d learned
my friend’s father died.
“Will you do the eulogy?”
With a clenched stomach
I responded, “No, I can’t.”

But moments after hanging up
the wave of necessity crashed over me.
I called back, “I have to do it.”
Hanging up, I sat at my computer,
the blank screen mocking my non-decision.
Gauntlet now thrown, my fingers went to work.

But first, a dark journey
to a life not well lived.
A difficult life transmitting
as much pain as he’d felt.
And now I too struggled
to put his life back together.

It would be easy
to put a smile on the years
but the mourners would know
the lies poorly told
wouldn’t cover the tears
he’d caused and shed.

Honesty and kindness
had never been so hard to knit
as in the words we wrote then spoke.
But rare, bright moments
remembered through a haze of pain
brought gentle, knowing smiles.

A final gift from Jerry
of a lesson rich in healing
as much for myself
as for others.