I’ve been working on a chapbook of poetry for about seven months now, maybe a bit more. I’m almost finished, actually. I have one more piece to create. The title is “Hug Your Grandma, Hug Your Mother.” I used to say that to my son after visiting him at Anthony Correction Center. I wish I could say it now.

I am struggling greatly with this last piece. It brings strong and difficult emotions to me. I find that just looking at the title, “Hug Your Grandma, Hug Your Mother” cracks open the hurt and pain of my son’s suicide, and it weeps out, slowly but strong. I get up and walk away from my work, compose myself, and return. Yet, I cannot move forward. Not yet. Not today.

Perhaps this will be a piece as strong and rage filled as “Christmas 2012.” Or, it could be full of pain, emitting the deep sorrow and anguish that accompanies such an event.

Wherever I’m lead, I hope the journey is brief.

Tags: chapbook, emotions, poetry, suicide