On Sunday’s I’m posting poetry written by my mother-in-law, Bettie Lou. Writing poetry was a form of therapy after losing her husband and then her youngest son in 1985.
The death of parents is expected.
The death of a spouse is bearable.
But the death of a son is expected? Bearable? Never.
His birth was difficult but left no scars.
How could I expect to be gutted and scarred by his death –
Left with no visible point of attachment.
Bettie Lou’s son and my brother-n-law, Mark, died as a result of a car accident in 1985. He would have celebrated his 54th birthday today.