Standing here, what do I say?
Alone, with you lying in front of me.
What is there to say?
It feels like you haven’t left, my heart is still numb.
This bush setting is what you would have wanted, what you would have chosen.
The sun is setting and a gentle breeze swirls around me curiously.
What do I say...?
I am alone,
It is now that I realize you are here alone also.
In our thoughts you can travel with us, you enjoy the scenery, the people, share in our conversations, in our lives.
We facilitate the conversations with your loved ones, with ours...
The wind sweeps through the relaxing trees in front of me and I keep wondering. I keep holding on... It’s truly agony.....
It reminders me of my life experiences when things don’t seem right, aren’t right.
These are thoughts of the past, they are untouchable, and they are everlasting.
You knew me for me, but could never have imagined the depth of me until you had past.
Clearly, we keep some things to ourselves, parts that should never be revealed, never be said.
You are at rest now; it seemed to be only possible through leaving us. I wish there was another way.
I stand in front of you as a person who has fought many battles, never took hold of a weapon, never directly took a life.
Fortunate, yet saddened by how I feel today.
We have all lost important people in our lives, people who will never be forgotten, always be missed.
God be with you Geoff, watch over all of your children as you did when walking amongst us.
Prepare them for a far more truthful eternal life beyond this one.
Give them the strength to live powerful, honest lives and exceed all of life’s expectations.
I am looking down and your daughter has carefully placed small stones to spell out “Love you”, this breaks my heart. A daughter should always have his father...
She is strong, yet fragile. I just want to hold her tight, console her and keep her safe.
The freshly dug soil in front of me absorbs my tears, in captures my despair.
We move on, can we?
I’m just standing here again, thinking “what can I say”
Not a soul is around, not a word is spoken other than my own within my head.
These headstones surround me, surrounds everyone. So many worthy stories, so many past lives lived.
Every one of them a friend of yours now Geoff. They have another thing in common with you, something to chat about.
I speak with your mate, “I expect you to walk in the front door”, I say. I know that he is also missing terribly. This experience seems only temporary – it isn’t.
The place of remembering is in our heads, in our souls. Not here in a burial site, not here - in our hearts and minds.
What can I say, “I miss him.’
frank martinuzzo
3rd February 2013