My mom's two older brothers died six months apart in WWII. The death of two sons and brothers to war is an unspeakable loss for a family. My thoughts and prayers are with all military families today.

 

My mom still shares stories with me about her brothers. They were much loved.

 

I wrote this poem about the day the family was notified about Jimmy's death.

 

Cry Uncle

 

This would be the first time it would happen,

The second time would come in just six months.

My grandmother stood at the kitchen sink,

Cleaning up after endless meals; why not endless?

There was a window, always a window,

It was wide open, wide open in June,

 

And they came, the ones they send to tell you –

There was a plane, some maneuvers, a crash,

No survivors, sincere apologies --

And they came, in their stiff formality,

Fully suited, one summer day in June.

She tried to shut the window, how she tried,

To keep them out, to keep him safe within.

 

There was a window, always a window,

It was wide open, wide open in June.

Now they were inside, inside of her home,

She tried to open the window wider,

Her knees on the sink, she was half outside,

Her flailing arms reaching up, toward the sky,

 

Then this: there was a scream, always this scream,

She screamed ‘Jimmy’ one summer day in June.

 

Therese Flanagan 6/99