This is a true story of a mother who asked me to write this poem about her son. I never met him. She just told me her story and I began writing.
October 2nd was the highlight of my life.
For on that day you were born. Such a beautiful sight!
I look at you baby as you look up at me.
I’ll give you your name; I shall call you, “Bradley.”
I’ve changed all your diapers. I throughly combed your hair.
I love you, my son, so much for you I do care.
Before my eyes you grew up from a boy to a man.
Be it right or be it wrong, by your side I did stand.
Your future was so bright. All was there for you to take.
All seemed good thus far, but never caught that break.
For one fateful day my whole world was suddenly shook.
A heavy box fell on you shattering every bone in your foot.
The doctors tried to mend it, they tried with all their might.
They told you they couldn’t, the look you had, a hopeless sight.
They said they needed to correct this. They wanted to amputate.
This was too much for you; much more than you could take.
You saw a bottle of pills, then you started to contemplate.
You lost all hope, so your life you proceeded to take.
When I found the empty bottle it was then I knew.
Why did you do it son? Oh my god I do miss you!
With 40 pills of methadone you committed this terrible crime.
If I could I’d bring you back and hold your hand again in mine.
I look down at your body as they closed and sealed the casket.
Why am I being punished? Why did this have to happen?
I can’t even stay still when I go to visit your grave.
I cry, yell and create a scene. I just cannot behave.
I just can’t let go. Everyday for you I cry.
I’m shaking, weeping, sobbing. I just can’t say goodbye.
My son, my precious son I want you to know I miss you so.
Each minute, hour and day that pass I still can’t let you go.
Just twenty-seven years old, you left me here to grieve and moan.
So hard living, I want to die. I just wanna be taken home.
One more sigh.
One more cry.
My face is wet as morning dew.
My one request.
For it seems best.
Wanna be buried next to you.
So painful… Gosh that was incredible writing, bro. I’m sure this woman is extremely grateful to have such a talented writer paint her truth in such a tragic, albeit beautiful, way. Thanks for sharing this gem. Definitely one of my favorites from you.
Thanks Cyrus! She was very grateful for this. She read a lot of my poems and often asked me how did I know her so well, as if I was describing her story. So she one day asked me to write about her deceased son. She told me to whole story and I kept this in my mind and put it into poetry and gave it to her. All I can say is, she was amazed and said I knew him so well (keep in mind I never met nor spoken to him). Anyways it was a honor for me to do this for her because it told me she really love and respected me as a writer. When I’m often tempted to give up writing, people like her keep that flame burning in me to never stop. Appreciate you!
This is so amazing! Especially for someone you’ve never met, that must’ve been an interesting challenge. The thing that astounds me the most about this is how personal you were able to make it! Excellent write Jarid!
Yes, it was a challenge. I didn’t want to offend or say the wrong thing. I literally had to think as she thought about him which is very difficult, but she encouraged me that if anyone could do it I could. She was in tears after reading this because she read it for the first time on the anniversary of his death and it was her living her life all over again with her son. Honestly, this was the hardest challenge for me but glad that I was able to do this for her. Thanks for your support PT!
Great poem Jarid and of course really sad. None the less you did a good job of conveying someone else’s pain.
Thanks! It was a hidden gift someone else made me see. Appreciate your feedback.
This pain must be devastating, you have present it well, “I can’t even stay still when I go to visit your grave.
I cry, yell and create a scene. I just cannot behave. I do hope I never have to bury any of my children.
Thank you for this well penned write. I hope the mother finds some solace with time.
Thanks Lumiere. She’s spoken to me several times about her son and only can imagine her pain and hear to torment in her voice each time. I only did what I could here and of course be a shoulder to lean on. Appreciate you!
She is blessed to have you write about her son and a shoulder to cry on,
Speaking from experience.. there’s nothing in this world that’s worse than having to give your child to the Lord.
You already know how I feel about this.
You’re a voice, my friend.
Very talented.
Yes, Rome. I know well how you feel as I also know your story. You always have my support. Thank you.