Casting a Line

The air was still An odd quiet could be felt in the room Johnny walked slowly up to the casket His brother looked peaceful He couldn’t glance toward his wife and their son He wondered what she would do The boy was only six and she would be left to raise him alone Throughout the service, he could feel her glance his way His eyes focused on the funeral program His mind was on the future As he stared into his brother’s eyes he felt the tears roll down his cheeks How could this be true Why did this happen? He didn’t want to question God’s plan He didn’t want to lose faith He surely didn’t want to be sitting there listening to the Preacher His brother was in his forties This wasn’t right It wasn’t fair At the end of the service he was so engulfed in grief they had to call his name twice Finally he made his way to the pulpit He took one final look at the casket before they closed it His brother’s eyes were closed and he looked serene She noticed his voice trembling as he tried to remain calm He spoke of their childhood and how they both loved to fish When he mentioned Leopoldo’s work at the railroad Her son smiled and blurted out “He worked on the trains, choo choo” A few of the older ladies glared at him She thought to herself “he is six and just lost his father” She wondered if their children could remain tranquil at a time like this She thought not as she glared right back shaking her head Fifty years later that boy went home He looked into his father’s eyes He smelled his mother’s cooking on the stove Grabbing two fishing poles, he reached for the bait and in an instant there they were father and son casting a line Blessed 05/12/2021 Written for Writing Prompt-Calm- Poetry Contest Sponsored by Constance La France