A Little Zen, for Jonathan

God
must have invented Grief
So we wouldn't get too hooked
On Happiness.


The night he died
The sky exploded in tears
We drove through black
rushing cataracts
To see his body.
No moon lit the way.


Nothing so still
As my sleeping son
Whose heart
has ceased
to beat.


What is the sound
of one heart breaking?
What is the sound
of a thousand?
I hear mine
above the rest.


In direct proportion
to the intensity
of my love:
The pain of my loss.


How to deal
with such grief:
I sob loudly,
I scrub pots.


Two weeks, tomorrow.
Enough! he says.
Rent a silly movie
Laugh with me.


John
George
Jonathan
No need for Paul and Ringo!
Listen.....


His Dad
was there
to greet him.
So happy.
One mirrors the smile
on the other one's face.


I am rowing
my little boat
gently
down the stream.
From the bank,
Jonathan smiles merrily,
waving.
I like this dream.


by Patricia White
Jonathan's mother