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30 April – One of a Kind

July 25, 2012 – that’s the day he died – my only brother, my sole sibling. Within a year of his death, both of our parents died, too. I know I have presented several poems with a theme of death. As I age, the subject is more and more on my mind – not in a macabre of obsessive way, but rather from a curious and accepting perspective. I, too, will experience it. Also, death is worth study and meditation as each one of us experiences it at some point in time, even if we try not to believe it, or think that we have much time remaining. When I wrote this poem I kept thinking, “I am the last one standing.” Such an intriguing and distracting thought. In every family, barring a tragic accident, eventually, one member of the group will outlive all the others. What a strange position to be in, to be: “one of a kind.”

One of a Kind


Upon the sudden death of an only brother

25 July 2010


First of two
Second of two
Years ago, almost one
Then near to forty far apart
These last ten
one again


A week ago
Two minus one
Yet less than one
Diminished by one
Perhaps one…and…one
perhaps none


Two lacking abodes
one locked out of time
one laced into space
One slants out the door
One watches behind
One of a kind

Background
In 2012, a few months after Paul died, I began to realize that no one in the history of humanity had what we had: shared genetics with the same two people, our parents. That made us two of a kind, brother and sister, offspring of different in genders, yet biologically mirror images of each other. Now, I’m not sure I have the science of this right, but philosophically, we are linked by our biology and our environment. The fact of his death hit me hard. Was I now singular, alone, no longer having a twin spirit? Or was his passing just another departure of another random person? I don’t expect to ever have answers to these questions.

I recall hearing an angelic-sounding chant the night I heard he was dead. I’m sure it was some concoction of my brain reacting to the shock of the news. Anyway, I’m Buddhist, and we don’t have an angel in the bunch.

Paul’s death was sudden and final: a lethal cardiac arrhythmia. He stood in our parents’ kitchen, chatting. One minute he was bantering, and the next he was on the floor, quickly passing away. I wasn’t present then, but I attended his funeral and comforted my parents. Several of my high school friends attended as well; their presence soothing and warm-hearted.

More than this remains wordless.
Exploration 1: Have you lost a sibling? What was your experience? Was it similar to the poem’s expression, or quite different?

Exploration 2: What do you think of the way the poet uses numbers to express the experience of losing an only sibling?

Exploration 3:  In the second stanza, the numbers become more ambiguous than in the first and in those that follow. Can you untangle the meaning of this second stanza?
Jack Pine Savage


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