"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."