Six weeks

Six weeks ago today that last we saw your face.
Six weeks of Benless days and restless nights.
Six weeks of absence while you lurk in every room
space and every corner of our minds.
More present than ever, yet gone so far away.
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We want to see him, hear him, hold him,
space but all we have is pictures on the wall and
space memories of smells and smiles and sounds of a voice,
space all growing dim.
Weeks to be grieved, to be touched by all we cannot touch again,
space the laugh and crooked smile, the humour and frustrations,
space the joy and bitter sweet of life with Ben.
Six weeks: time enough for some - “When Ben first died” they say,
space as if it’s past already - time for many to move on
space but not yet time enough for us.
space Not time to begin to understand. Let alone forget.
Six weeks to ponder, to think of life and death and heaven
space and how he’s resting now.
space Of whether he’s asleep or watching as we fret.
Weeks to remember. To remember a life fulfilled and overflowing,
space that cannot be robbed or lost again. No random tale told by an idiot
space but a life well lived… full of sound, some fury, and endless possibilities.
Yet every day that passes we leave him far behind:
space six weeks into the past and counting, adding up the hours
space since last we saw his frown and cheeky grin and brave goodbye.
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Six weeks ago today we made your decision and watched as you faded away.
space Promoted to glory: “we will meet you in the morning
space when all sorrow has drifted away.”