I don't want to be here
I don't want to go
Too soon, too quick, too public
I'm not ready for this show
But I belong to that family
That died the day he died
And tradition begs me be here
When I would rather hide
I labour every step
Down that lonely aisle
Only a short path to walk
But what seems like a heavy mile
Eyes are on my family
As we walk to front of the church
A section designated for the grievers
In pews carved from ancient birch
I take the place assigned to me
In the second pew
Though he meant the whole world to me
My bond was not as true
From where I sit I can see them all
The ones who I love so well
I want to be in the front with them
But in the second pew I dwell
Poet's Note: Written August 14, 2020.
The second pew can be a painful place to be… at least it was for me. Nothing could be done that day to change my seating arrangement, but it reality, it wasn't about the pew location, it was about longing to be acknowledged that I mattered too... that my pain mattered, that my loss mattered, that my place in his life was significant. He would have told me that I mattered and that would have been good enough for me.
My encouragement for others who find themselves in "the second pew"… find a place, a space… somewhere, somehow… where you can sit in the front. It is the place where you matter to yourself. If only for that moment, you don't have be the caregiver; you don't have to hide your feelings to protect others and you don't have to be strong. In that place, you will find your healing.
