Jeff McCallum

I am greatly saddened by the death of my father, my mentor and my friend. I thought I was prepared and strangely was not. My cancer, his hospice care, none of it added up to the reality of the hole that memories alone must fill. His poetry can be seen and heard at www.jabberin.com

Commuter Train

Departure is the nature of life.

Method and sequence vary,

nothing similar except final destination,

called by many names

yet

the same place,

at least for those left behind.

Would it be easier,

the pain less

if,

at the appointed hour

each and all concerned

arrived at the metaphysical terminal,

purchased a ticket,

said the requisite goodbyes

and boarded?

Would we yet weep,

rend our clothing,

point our finger at fate,

shake our fist at the universe,

or simply wave goodbye?

Would we who remain at the station

walk back to our vehicle

smelling the dust and the roses,

feeling the sun and the rain;

return to our particular place on the pathway,

move on with our journey?

I will miss you

see you soon

write often

lose their meaning

mean everything

are more truth

more lie

more final

It is as it must be.

We are where we are,

where the journey has taken us,

where we have brought ourselves.

Left to take

and offer

such nourishment as we are able.