"On Death" My uncle walked to heaven tonight to see if angels really do exist. I bet he’s seen your mom, too, because a woman who produced a son like you does not belong anywhere else. I’m tired of meeting death when I shouldn’t and putting wakes and funerals together. I’m tired of walking on fresh soil carpets through gardens of headstones. I wanted to call you tonight and ask you for tips on how to accept this. I’ve gotten it wrong every time and I don’t think I can breathe through another one. But I won’t call because my thoughts are as disjointed as this poem and the only thing getting me through tonight is knowing that I will never hear my uncle’s sobs as he fights chemo again."