A Policeman At The Door Poem by Don Winslow

1950, New Years Day
The doorbell rings, a policeman at the door-
Your father is dead
My Mother is screaming, crying.

1990,40 Years later
The doorbell rings, a policeman at the door-
Your son is dead.
My wife is screaming, crying.

If bad things come in threes
There’s another policeman out there,
Somewhere, sometime,
Waiting to ring a doorbell.
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This poem is very personal. I don’t think it has any “universal truths” in it.
My father went to work on New Years Eve, had a heart attack on the way, he was found dead in his car. My son died in his apartment from an overdose.
This kind of poem might be difficult for some people to read, it might sound negative and depressing, but it helps me. This kind of poem helps me to avoid negativity and depression. Of course that was the whole point of writing my first poems about Cancer..
I just realized that my current age is one more year than the combined ages of my father and my son. Is there a message in there somewhere?