last of my family line
standing among faded stone and marble monuments
names matched with faces
some
others just numbers on a page
in a book no one will ever read.
one by one they came here
leaving a father’s fatherland
to settle
to clear the land
by the sweat of their brow
to find love
to father a son
to find a church
to cross the street
to buy a plot
to be buried.
until another takes his place
following the same steps
working the same land
singing the same praises in the same church
to the same God
dying and being buried
in the same cemetery.
to be repeated
to be repeated
until only i remained.
to be baptized
to be educated
to work
to play
to pray
to be married
to be buried in the same hallowed ground
one day
to be forgotten
no one to follow
no longer a need for sorrow
for eyes are shut
only dust of the ground remains
lasted longer than the names
carved here.
My name is Brian Brehmer. I am the 6th and final generation of my family to live in Milwaukee, to attend the same church, and to one day be buried in the same cemetery. I am married to an immigrant (now citizen of the US) from El Salvador and am a step father to her three sons. I write not because I want to or because I can, but rather because it’s the only way to get the words to stop circling overhead like vultures.
