Paul Rousseau, MD
This poem originates from the death of my wife. There are so many things from her death that I can’t ever forget. But we all experience death, and we all retain moments we can’t forget. It’s a part of being human, and it’s a part of loss.
Vol 6: Iss 2, Poetry
I can’t forget the sound of dying, and
I can’t forget the stillness of death, and
I can’t forget my daughters’ weeping, and
I can’t forget the chaplain’s words, and
I can’t forget the weight of ashes, and
I can’t forget why I can’t forget.