Twenty-three years ago, in grief
We etched all of our names
In stone, imagining no other
Outcome than us, intact forever
It was the best we could do
Since we could not bring him back
We promised his ashes company
One day, when our time arrived

Time, all by itself, has a way
Of changing things, and yet
We played a role, too—we loved
Less or others more; we had
A second child who lives and grows
And every day my faith reveals
That my son is beside me now
Not in ashes but in his very spirit

The past two summers
I traveled to two sets of graves
Last year, by the lake, where
Our son’s name is etched with ours
This year, to the valley, where
My parents rest near each other—
Beyond these two trips, I journey
In my mind, reviewing my life thus far
Decisions, hopes, mistakes, prospects
And while it is late, I wonder if it is
Not too late to un-etch my name?

Isn’t it time to let myself live
Without the weight of a stone
Determining my final resting place?
Isn’t it time to remove myself
From a plot where I no longer belong
Amid names I no longer carry?
How difficult would this be?
I wanted to know, I found out
Like many things: harder in my mind
Than in practice—and thus
The final marker of a lifelong vow
Departs and is replaced
With one, just for our son

Today, “walking by faith, not by sight”*
I know he is nearby, sending sweet
Messages and holy reinforcements
When it gets too dark, inside or out—
Tangibly, his sister is never far away
And if I listen, I hear both of them
Rooting for me to be free of
Pediments and impediments
To face the light, to shine
To live and to love on

*2 Corinthians 5:7