©2018 by Jack A. Urquhart
Here you come ‘round again
it’s five years now
since you took your leave
and still these parceled posts
arrive in the present tense
mementos of you come home again
in no particular order:
The screaming child inconsolable
in the crowded restaurant
the young man beneath a road-worn cap
alone with a steaming bowl of phở
Your voice sounds with the midnight owl
calling for faraway home
You rise and shine with the quickening moon
are reborn with each shivering blizzard
that breaks upon an early lilac spring
You walk again in solitary footsteps
stealing away in the soft wet snow
You are the last unopened package
beneath the glittering spruce
the empty place at the festive table
You are the toughest hardest nut to crack
the firstborn and the first to go
You are the prodigal son come home again
bearing gifts in loving memory


Oh Jack how i Love to read your prose but it must be so difficult. The Loving memories you share with us cause me to cry. Your loss is more than I can imagine. And I pray I never experience such hell. I love you my dear uncle. And I am so very sorry for your loss. ❤️