Father’s Ghost

I wore a very dusty dark charcoal suit to my father’s funeral

The jacket fit

But the pants were too tight

But I managed to squeeze myself in

This was my old wedding suit from many years prior

It’s been hanging in the back of my closet since that memorable day

Unprotected from the elements

I’m glad only dust got to it

Thankfully, no signs of moths feasting on the suit

It was an overcast day in the last month of the year

A bit cold

A bit wet

A dampness dug into your bones

The sky had that distinct look that snow was inevitable

The sexton had previously dug the grave

All that was necessary was the service

And to lower the coffin into the earth

And perhaps shed a tear

Or two

The trees had dew drops at the ends of each leafless branch

The winter yellow grass was now dead

Mixed with last week’s slush

The wind was absent

Yet agreed to haunt all the mourners

Those that traveled from far away

And those that lived nearby

Father reminded me of nothing

An infant cried in the distance

Several eulogies were incomparable to the lifetime of facts

As we witnessed

A wooden box lost in the dirt

© 2025 David Greg Harth

25.11.25.14.23.00@345ParkNYC