On a bitterly cold March day
Driving down the Valley Parkway
My eyes a brim with stinging tears
Never thought in a million years
That dad and I would make this pact
Before it came to his last act
He talked to me so urgently -
Between - silence hung piteously
It was as if - I in a trance
Passing by the main entrance
Knew destiny would play its part
So I turned back with a heavy heart
Walked away from Providence Villa
Feeling the call for a painkiller
Life never be the same again
Needed something to ease my pain
It was early morning Saturday
Everywhere was dull and gray
The street, cars, people sky and trees
Seemed motionless in a deep freeze
Like a zombie feeling the strain
Reached the car it was pouring rain
No passenger to sit by my side
Dad given the last rites had died
Not much left to be decided
All of his wishes I had abided
Words of comfort sounded hollow
Shutting my eyes, my breath shallow
Wonder what’s happens to dad’s soul
No images just an empty hole
That begins and never ends -
Life turns God’s Love transcends
The unknown whatever is beyond
Dad and I had the strongest bond
Am right with you in this, Beryl, in several different ways, having faced both breast cancer myself and the illness and subsequent loss of my mother last year. You paint the shock, turmoil, numbness, questioning, practicality, self-examination oh so well here and your desires to both reach in and to reach out. Loved your sage and inspiring words in your bio and trust that your Psalms committed to memory may have "sprung to life", providing you with both solace and strength for the Dark Valley, plus hope for a bright new day. Such bonds reach beyond the place of separation. Bless you and thank you for sharing your pain, Kate xx
Reviewed by Raechel Blakeney (Reader)
Reviewed on February 8, 2007
I had a very similar feeling when I found out that my father has cancer. This is an amazing poem.
After a long awaited weekend visitation caused by false allegations of sexual abuse, Glen got to see his children for the first time in over two months. He promised them that they would never be apart again and then they disappeared.
Rosetta was born in 1909 as the youngest of ten children. The family had more laughter than money and neighbors would knock on their door to ask, "Can we come in and laugh, too?"
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Your sense of loss is powerful due to that bond my friend, So sorry.
Regis
(((HUGS))) and love, Karla.