Letter to My Son, Over Three Years Since He’s Gone
You would be jealous, I think,
of how your sister is learning trig,
speaking Spanish, playing bridge.
You’d probably tease her, but really,
what you’d be thinking is, She is so cool.
And she is, sweetheart. She’s fun
and silly. Like you. Only like her.
We talk about you, of course.
Just this weekend, we remembered
how once you said if a 99-pound person
ate a one-pound burger, they
would be one percent burger.
I wonder what percent of your sister
is grief? And what percentage love?
Tonight a girl asked her if she had any siblings.
She said, yes, a brother. When the girl
asked her how old you were, she told her
the truth. That you were seventeen
when you died. What a terrible gift
to learn how to say the hardest things straight.
I can’t help but think if you are watching her,
you, too, must be in awe of who she’s becoming.
Oh, how we learn to grow from whatever soil
we’ve been given. I do not pretend to know
how this works. I only know she
is learning to transform ache into beauty,
nightmare into dream. I only know
I long for her to know love from you
the way a garden feels loved by sun, by rain.
*
Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer is poet laureate for Evermore. She co-hosts the Emerging Form podcast. Her daily audio series, The Poetic Path, is on the Ritual app. Her poems have appeared on A Prairie Home Companion, PBS News Hour, O Magazine, American Life in Poetry, and Carnegie Hall stage. Her newest collection is The Unfolding. One-word mantra: Adjust.
I love Rosemerry’s elegies.
❤️❤️ Thank you, dear man …
Heartbreaking and beautiful.
Saying the hardest thing with grace–thank you, Rosemerry.
Thank you, dear poet ❤️
Sometimes we process our grief only by observing another’s. Beautiful, welcoming, and honest!
“What a terrible gift to learn how to say the hardest things straight.” Gift, lesson.
oh friend, and you are a master at this gift …
Oh, dear Rosemerry, sending you love. Beautiful poem.
Thank you, dear Donna ❤️❤️
Powerful and moving.
I read once how grief teaches us to be truly deeply human. Rosemerry’s poems as well. Thank you.
thank you, Susan
“Oh, how we learn to grow from whatever soil
we’ve been given.” So unfortunate that sometimes we get such hard soil, but you show the way. Thank you, Rosemerry.
Giant hugs to you, dear Betsy❤️❤️
The love of my life, my big bear of a husband, died suddenly a year after your beloved son died. You continue to be a light on my path of mourning and healing. Thank you, thank you, Rosemerry.
Oh Cynthia, thank you. My broken open heart opens to yours ❤️❤️