Sacred Space
My son’s room remains a shrine.
He died in his bed
and we don’t know why.
But I refuse to let his bed become the enemy.
I kneel and pray there nightly.
As if the words thought might bring him back
to lie in that bed and all will be right in the world again.
As I depart from the room after my nightly ritual,
I touch three pieces of clothing,
one at a time, that remain on his bed after four years.
One black t shirt he wore on our last vacation shortly before he died.
An oxford blue shirt he loved and wore in his last class picture.
And a little light brown teddy bear mini blanket
we searched for and found from when he was a toddler.
He used to rub the silk from the edge of the blanket
against his lips as he watched cartoons.
My mind relives the days of Calvin
from all three of those times.
Then I hit my heart twice
and give a peace sign to heaven salute.
It won’t bring him back.
But it brings back stages of his life
to my mind for an instant.
And for now, my mind is the only place left
where I can capture a moment in time.
- © Robert Pegel 2021
Robert Pegel is a father and husband whose only child, his son Calvin, died in his sleep four years ago. Calvin was 16 and died of unknown causes. Robert writes poetry to help process the unimaginable. He hopes others will find inspiration in his writing which may help them cope with suffering they are experiencing. Robert graduated from Columbia University where he majored in English. He has only begun submitting his work recently. He has been published in Down in the Dirt and The Unique Poetry Journal.
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