Poetry submitted by Sarah S. on Monday, July 19, 2004 at 2:29PM :

2 Boxes

2 boxes await me
Here in your room.
They call my name
Like pending doom.

One marked trash
And one marked keep.
Each item I touch
Brings memories from the deep.

A family vacation
Your 8th grade graduation.
I pour through your things
With mounting trepidation.

What do you keep?
And what do you toss?
Your things speak for you
And they're all that I've got.

I pick up a photo
Of you with your smile.
I smile...place it in "keep"
And then cry for awhile.

So many regrets
I have in my mind
Like not getting to say
"I love you" one more time.

So I say it now
To your memory, to you.
I say it aloud
As I sit in your room.

I say it to boxes
One more full than the other.
I say it to your sister
And your grieving father.

I miss you, my son.
As I clean out your room.
I am keeping so much
For you left me too soon.

Love,
Mom

Sarah Sharpless
July 6, 2004