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C.E. Skilling

Last Chance

I sat there in the pew
wondering what was said
words spilled out over us
in Latin, way over my head.

I think I understood their pain
for I felt some myself
but he was so old at the time
scarcely more than images on a shelf.

It was spring back then
before the casket was closed and left
my uncle stood the final guard
as though protecting him from theft.

Your last chance to say good-by!
I heard my mother say
and being a shy boy of eight
I put it off for another day.

That day never came of course
but I know he waits for me
as I prepare myself to follow
and be buried under the same oak tree.

I look around me in this time
seeing young eyes wet and teary
remembering when I sat in the pew
I know he will be weary.

So I smile and tell a joke or two
cutting the tension in the room
hell; it does no one any good
to sit in all this gloom.

Open the shades a while
and boy: Go out and play
your grandpa will wait for you, and we'll go fishin'
when you get back; another day!

Your last chance to say good-by
I think I heard my daughter say
but the boy just smiled, remembering my words
and headed out the door to play.