Wallowing a Bit

Adam Rogers Gillette
May 22, 1984- August 22, 2000
This was his expression
so much of the time.

It's not that there isn't a lot to say
about the boy we said good-bye to
fourteen years ago. There is. So much.
But we get choked up in the telling.
Not always, though. Sometimes, we don't.
Sometimes the stories flow and the laughter
soothes our hearts and all that we remember
is the goodness and the humor and the
way he brought such joy to everyone
he knew. But not today. Today we cry,
collectively, down deep, so deep the
light cannot get through. We muddle
through for twenty-four long hours,
wallowing a bit in sorrow and self-pity
till the morrow, when the light of Adam's grin
is all we see. That and his freckles,
which I told him once were angel kisses,
but I didn't know they'd want them back so soon.


(c) Ellen Gillette, 2014