[In memory of Peter Tomasulo January 20, 1953 – December 17, 2023]
(Peter T & Me, Staples 35th Reunion, 2006)
On December 8,
I gently held your hand
and I’m sure you knew
it was me.
On the long drive
home all I could
think about
was that horrific
December 14.
Your heartbreak day
embedded in my brain.
The Christmas shopping,
her head in your lap,
the senseless devastation.
Four years later, at our 35th
High School Reunion
you were still in such pain,
and yet you drove with me
to drag my despondent
cousin Pam out of her house
when I told you that she lost
her husband and her son.
You took her out of the depths
of despair for a few hours.
You did what no one was able
to do, and I never forgot your
kindness and empathy. And until
Pam died; she never
forgot you either.
That’s who you were.
And you were never going to
recover from that
December 14, but you were
getting stronger,
until ten years to the day,
when December 14 came
for Sandy Hook Elementary,
in your home town.
It was like your December 14
happened all over again.
And now this.
I keep asking myself,
why? Why you?
On this December 14,
it was jammed in my brain
that your sweet
Kathleen was patiently
waiting. And then came
the devastating news
that on December 17,
you were gone.
I am grief-stricken,
but confident that
if there is another
side, I will see
you there one day,
my unforgettable
Peter T.
(Peter T & Me, Staples 45th Reunion, 2016)