March 2019
Sam Norman
snorman2252@gmail.com
snorman2252@gmail.com
Poems of Mourning
In Memory of My Son, Benjamin Edward Norman, 1998 - 2018
Official Navy portrait
Ben and his Poppy, on the night receiving his Eagle Scout Badge.
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Asia, Ben, Teri (Ben's mom) Oct. 2018 graduating Navy's Power School
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No
it can't be my kid
it can't it can't
my kid doesn't
drink
smoke
do drugs
my kid is
smart
funny
has a goal
my kid has a
fiancée
is generous
kind
loving
loving
loving
LOVING!
it can not be my kid
it can't be
it can’t be my kid
God oh God
No.
No
it can't be my kid
it can't it can't
my kid doesn't
drink
smoke
do drugs
my kid is
smart
funny
has a goal
my kid has a
fiancée
is generous
kind
loving
loving
loving
LOVING!
it can not be my kid
it can't be
it can’t be my kid
God oh God
No.
Dear Reader:
I would like to introduce you to my son Benjamin Edward Norman, forever 20 years old. He died December 31st 2018 in a weather-related car accident.
As a kid, Ben (or Jamin as I would call him) loved to climb trees, LOVED it. He went up so high that my wife and I would beg for him to come down, or at least down a little. This manifested into a love of outdoors: he loved camping out and camp fires. He loved stargazing. One of his proudest moments was when he got his Eagle Scout Badge. As a scout he was an ambassador to Poland for his troop. Well, in Poland he met Asia (pronounced Asha). After a number of extended visits (here and there) they were in love. On December 31, 2017, Ben proposed, and Asia accepted.
When Ben joined up to the Navy, he was recruited into the "Nukes" or the nuclear propulsion program, the most challenging program in the entire military. At the time of the accident, Ben was about three months from completing the third and final training school in this grueling two year program. He and Asia were getting married this upcoming (2019) spring after he graduated.
Ben was kind and generous, and could get along with anyone. He was a very loving person, and was verbal about it. Most teenage boys stop saying "I love you" to their parents, but not Ben. He would say "Love you, man" to his friends, and meant it. He was also a mentor and role model to his sister Rebecca and brother Daniel.
After Ben's accident, I couldn't sleep at night, and instead started to write. I have never really written seriously before, but it seemed that I HAD to write. Here are some of the poems that I have written over the last few months since his passing. Thank you for reading. I LOVE YOU BEN.
Dear Reader:
I would like to introduce you to my son Benjamin Edward Norman, forever 20 years old. He died December 31st 2018 in a weather-related car accident.
As a kid, Ben (or Jamin as I would call him) loved to climb trees, LOVED it. He went up so high that my wife and I would beg for him to come down, or at least down a little. This manifested into a love of outdoors: he loved camping out and camp fires. He loved stargazing. One of his proudest moments was when he got his Eagle Scout Badge. As a scout he was an ambassador to Poland for his troop. Well, in Poland he met Asia (pronounced Asha). After a number of extended visits (here and there) they were in love. On December 31, 2017, Ben proposed, and Asia accepted.
When Ben joined up to the Navy, he was recruited into the "Nukes" or the nuclear propulsion program, the most challenging program in the entire military. At the time of the accident, Ben was about three months from completing the third and final training school in this grueling two year program. He and Asia were getting married this upcoming (2019) spring after he graduated.
Ben was kind and generous, and could get along with anyone. He was a very loving person, and was verbal about it. Most teenage boys stop saying "I love you" to their parents, but not Ben. He would say "Love you, man" to his friends, and meant it. He was also a mentor and role model to his sister Rebecca and brother Daniel.
After Ben's accident, I couldn't sleep at night, and instead started to write. I have never really written seriously before, but it seemed that I HAD to write. Here are some of the poems that I have written over the last few months since his passing. Thank you for reading. I LOVE YOU BEN.
Ben at three years old
Stained Glass
The world is a shattered pane of stained glass,
dull without the sun.
Shards scattered across the tiled floor defy repair.
I hope that tomorrow a piece, a single piece
can be refitted into its frame
and allow a sliver of light to restore some of me.
Ben at ten years old
Empty Sanctuary
-co-written with John L. Stanizzi
Love and grief hung in the air
of the empty room
like ground fog rolling in
on sunshine,
covering the frosted hosta,
reluctantly silencing the joy
of our youth.
And although their silence
is the silence
we hear when
they are gone,
their songs of honor sound
in our heart always,
sometimes like the sharp report of a rifle
in the winter air,
or the whispered breath of a lover
in one’s ear,
each powerful,
each poignant,
each perpetual.
Ben and his dad, 2016
Morning Fog
In the early morning, before the day begins,
I imagine a world that still has Ben in it.
In the 3 a.m. Coventry-winter stillness
everything is possible.
But then the chickens squawk
making their pre-dawn demands,
and fog forms on the
vague, frozen lake,
and he is gone.
Ben, with the love of his life, his fiancee, Asia.
Ben and Asia - Coventry Lake 2016
The Star
1.
Each night since the accident
I have gone outside into the bitter cold
to look at the stars.
Some nights the sky is clear and brilliant,
the constellations dazzling.
Ben loved stargazing.
He would have pointed out
Cassiopeia and Orion's belt.
That's Gemini, Dad,
he would say,
and over there is the North Star,
Two nights after the accident,
Teri called to me
to come downstairs.
There in the sky was one of the most
brilliant lights I have ever seen.
Look, it's Ben, she said.
She believes in signs;
they comfort her.
It’s just a planet,
I thought to myself,
and I went back inside.
2.
The day before his funeral,
we went to the veteran's cemetery.
Stretched out before us
in orderly rows,
were the military headstones,
each one bearing a cross,
the symbol of Faith.
I said, Aren't there any Jews here?
Don't worry. Ben liked to be the first, Teri said.
And now,
when I see his star,
magnificent,
among the rows of crosses,
I know for sure that it is Ben,
no Faith required.
1.
Each night since the accident
I have gone outside into the bitter cold
to look at the stars.
Some nights the sky is clear and brilliant,
the constellations dazzling.
Ben loved stargazing.
He would have pointed out
Cassiopeia and Orion's belt.
That's Gemini, Dad,
he would say,
and over there is the North Star,
Two nights after the accident,
Teri called to me
to come downstairs.
There in the sky was one of the most
brilliant lights I have ever seen.
Look, it's Ben, she said.
She believes in signs;
they comfort her.
It’s just a planet,
I thought to myself,
and I went back inside.
2.
The day before his funeral,
we went to the veteran's cemetery.
Stretched out before us
in orderly rows,
were the military headstones,
each one bearing a cross,
the symbol of Faith.
I said, Aren't there any Jews here?
Don't worry. Ben liked to be the first, Teri said.
And now,
when I see his star,
magnificent,
among the rows of crosses,
I know for sure that it is Ben,
no Faith required.
Editor's Note: Please send (only positive) comments to the author (see email address above). Correspondence is the beginning of community in our virtual village. It is very important. I love to read your comments and would appreciate it if you cc me: [ff@verse-virtual.org]. Thanks. -FF