Two in a Week

When death strikes twice in a week,

There are hardly words one can speak.

One was young, a prodigious youth.

The other old, but deep her roots.

Imagine that both their hairs were red,

Young Robert brilliant, he left things unsaid.

He had refined hands that imitated life,

And a spiritual nature, his heart was light.

He drew many things with his magic pen,

A teeming mind, an imagination transcends.

Robert always had a good man’s heart,

Right is right, right from the start.

And my Auntie, she was something too.

Beneath her shade her children grew.

A mighty daughter and fiercer sons,

Like a fairy godmother to everyone.

An older voice with an ancient flare,

Aunt Julia’s joy was to simply care.

I see her smile and golden tooth crown,

Lost another great, another one down.

Yes, two deaths in one week!

I’ve hoarded my days miserly,

I cannot find the words to speak!

Persistent time smiles wildly.

I grasp at reason and I find it wet,

And I stay busy just to forget.

And all those things left unsaid,

Inside they stay, for the dead are dead.

In Memory of Aunt Julia, who raised three children that are my siblings in love. The best people I know, and they carry your legacy and memory with them. That special spark and love, I see it in their children too. Rest in Peace Auntie, I love you! You were like another home to so many people, touching so many lives in a place where danger loomed around the corner. You come from an old world, where your children was your purpose, where the sacrifice of motherly love was never a question or hesitation. Rest in Heaven.

(2/14/43 – 8/22/22)

And

In Memory of my brother Robert, a formative mind that influenced the man I became. I wish we shared more memories. Robert. We were both a little outcast, young boys who didn’t quite think what the other kids thought was cool, was in fact cool. We knew better than them at a young age. Thank you for everything, ever, pushing my creativity when I was young, when the home life did nothing to encourage it. When a fire goes out too soon, one wonders what depths such genius might have shed to light. May you find a beautiful life in the next.

(1989 [I cannot believe I forgot your birthday] – 8 / 17 / 22