Sam's father, William Bergstrom, passed unexpectedly this past week. In remembrance, we would like to share one of William's poems.
I sat at the dining room table while
listening to music. Glanced out the window
at the houses across the street: passing cars,
kids on bikes, neighbors with their dogs
until our dog went hoarse barking. My wife went
walking with our daughter, bringing her back slowly
from the far edges of our daughter’s mind where
ships collided in port, cars crashed at intersections,
people wore masks of death. She was improving,
we said, we hoped. Went to church. Progress was like
building a skyscraper one brick at a time.
We grew old when we didn’t want to.
But we found time to laugh for we knew
humor healed better than pain.
Portrait by Kathleen Bergstrom