I have little memory of the man
who was my first adoptive father
and none of his funeral, two-year-olds,
my mother said, should not
know of death at that age.
Nor did I attend my grandmother’s,
she the mother of my second adoptive father
because 12-year-old shouldn’t
have the memory of funerals,
according to my mother.
I did attend her mother’s funeral,
had to because I conducted the service.
I never had the chance to attend
the funeral of either birth parent,
both long dead before I found them.
Fraught with irony or whatever you will
I never attended of funerals
of my adoptive mother or second
adoptive father not because she
might have objected, simply
because her natural born son
could never bother to hold one.