She asked to meet my family,
so I took her to the cemetery.
I introduced her to the tombstones
of my mother and father,
brother, sister, sister-in-law.
I explained that half of my family is there,
so this is where half of my heart lies,
languishing in full blown eternity,
family memories moldering in the grave.
The graveyard was cold and snowy,
a fitting scene for a January day,
the nearby road buzzed with traffic,
overhead the sky was ashen gray.
We lingered not long.
It takes but little time
to commune with loved ones
who died and left you behind.
I knew that day
she and I would not last
for she had no experience
of family who have passed.
She could not fathom
the finality of family death,
had no sympathy or patience
for the graveyard's final rest.
She can never understand
until it is her turn to know
how half your heart can lie buried
under bitter cold wet snow.
© Francisco G. Rodriquez, 2017
