Friday, May 24, 2013


My father’s grave—a solemn place;
Still yet, I see his haggard face,
His pain—the suffering—at his end;
My God!  Spare me that dark fate’s friend!

And on I walked across a field,
Once grass and rocks and dirt;
Each step through granite stone and bone
Gave wince with someone’s hurt.

And grieve, ye son!  Tis time of death;
Hold fast Dad’s hand with his last breath;
There’s chance to mourn and time to cry. . .
And kiss the soul with last goodbye.

At last I saw it tinted pink,
The stone that bore her name
I came to stand at Mother’s grave,
Filled with useless shame.

They crowded round his bed and prayed;
I held his hand and long I stayed
With brother talking of our Dad
Until we knew his soul had fled.

But Mother died alone with God;
It shouldn’t be that way.
No tears I’ve shed; I choke them down,
For guilt might wash away.

One day comes tears for Mom deserves the best;
I cried as Dad joined God in final rest;
I know that both are Heaven touched and blessed.
I can’t forget the lonely way Mom passed.

                                    --Monty Wheeler


  1. Brings back memories of my father's struggle with cancer and my visits to the cemetery where his body was laid to rest.

  2. There will always be moments of regret, thankfully as we move forward we take action against creating more; a poignant poem of loss.