This lack of emotion,
is what has shaped me.
It’s made me seem cold,
but I’m not what you see.
First funeral at thirteen,
one of my dads good friends.
Stabbed by his stepson,
such a horrible end.
Next year it got worse,
that’s when grandma died.
I remember the funeral,
and forcing myself not to cry.
Then two weeks later,
my dads best friends heart quit.
I held back the tears,
trying hard to control it.
Then six months later,
they found my grandpa.
Loaded gun in his hand,
his memories on the wall.
I started to crack,
but didn’t let it show.
I had to be strong,
so that no one would know.
Then three months later,
my uncle died.
I tried to control it,
but finally broke down and cried.
Running away,
till my dad caught me by the hand.
Then saying I was sorry,
when I could barely stand.
I didn’t want them to worry,
when they were hurting so much.
But it finally broke me,
my fathers touch.
I wept in his arms,
and could feel his tears on my cheek.
He was trying to comfort,
and I was ashamed to be weak.
The moment I saw,
my sweet uncles face,
something broke inside me,
that I had kept at bay.
I still cannot think,
about that without tears.
It breaks me every time,
even after all of these years.
So if I seem distant,
then I apologize.
Just know that I’m weeping,
it’s just on the inside.