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We spinkled half your ashes
at the roots of the ancient oak
where you used go to pray
and half upon your father's grave
that day was a poem

Charlotte said she saw you at her window one day
You were out in the cold,
needing her warmth
She wouldn't let you in
She was too angry with you, she said

I've only ever seen you in dreams
since you finally found God
I remember two of those dreams
clearly
One a nightmare of broken hopes,
one filled with laughter and love of life

I remember going through your apartment
I didn't know
what of yours you would want me to have
without you there to give it to me
without the meaning you gave to gifts
with your eyes, with your soul
I didn't see anything that spoke of you
The dead never speak of the dead

At the service people kept mentioning Jesus
I couldn't help but laugh
People say they couldn't make out
what I said when I got up to the podium
But I know that you heard me and
understood. You always did

Many times I've felt that you were trying to get through to me
from wherever you are now
There's that wall we used to always
come up against when we would
stay up all night talking

I wonder if now you hang out with your father, just sit around with your dad and John Lennon and Kurt Vonnegut
How could I compete with that?

Whenever I listen to Motorhead or Mozart
I think of you

I wanted so badly to write
a beautiful poem in your honor
But then I thought
In a way all my creative expressions are in your honor
I'm much better at playing guitar than at writing poetry
So next time I play the guitar
It'll be just for you Lance

If it's true that when we die we become truly part of everything
then everyone who reads this poem is you

So to you there, sitting there at your computer reading this

I love you