Parking Lot Conversations – Writers House Review

Emma Scott

I was eating a cheesesteak when you asked me to write your eulogy. You asked me this the same way you would ask someone to pick up eggs from the store. At 14-years-old, I was too young to take calculus and also too young to know how to actually write a eulogy, but I agreed anyway. Now I wonder why I was the person you asked. I knew you as my father but knew nothing about the lives you lived before me. And I knew you were dying, but I didn’t really know what it meant for you to be dead. In the red Subaru passenger seat, you gave me a joking smile, mocking Mom’s horrified reaction to our conversation. We laughed together and I watched your eyes gleam against your constricted pupils. You gave me your blue eyes but I was always envious of your shade. They were as piercing as they were gentle and impossible to miss against your syrup brown hair. When your body was 50 pounds lighter, your hair thinned, and your muscles eroded- your eyes still illuminated your face. When you could no longer speak, I still recognized you there and for me, that was enough. Before all of this, but after we knew, you sat with me while I ate that cheesesteak. It was good and I insisted on eating it right there in the hotdog stand parking lot. If I could go back I would have given you a bite.

Emma Scott is a senior from Cranford, New Jersey, studying economics and creative writing. When she’s not writing poetry, Emma enjoys baking, documentary film, and spending time outdoors.

This poem was written in Joanna Fuhrman’s poetry course during the 2022 spring semester. Fuhrman selected the piece for inclusion in WHR.