Grieving my Brother

When you lose your brother,

Heaven seems so far away.

The well-wishers give their sincerest

sympathy and deepest condolences

and I smile and say “thank you”;

what more can I say without the anger

I feel, not their fault, any of it.

And the faithful repeat their platitudes

of mom and dad and countless relatives before

waiting, open armed behind the gates of Heaven

to greet him, welcome him home, some joyous reunion,

but it’s of little comfort to me,

for they have the joys of heaven to themselves already;

they don’t need him as I do now in my grief,

in need of a brother’s love,

a brother’s advice, a brother’s comfort,

a far greater need than theirs who radiate glory.

People tell me this goes away, and perhaps it does,

in time, as the days and years go by

and my own passing confronts me, he, his arms spread,

waiting for me beyond Heaven’s gates, no comfort

to those left behind, as I was, when he left me,

unprepared as we all are for death and grieving my brother.