The loss of a husband and father.

Pop Took Mama

Pop left us yesterday.
He took his presence, bigger than life.
He took away with him Mama’s smile.
He never said goodbye.
He took with him the twinkle from Mama’s eyes.
He left the fishing tackle down in the shed, but he took with him the lilt in Mama’s voice.
He forgot his old grey flannel shirt, he took instead the lightness from Mama’s step.
He left the leaky roof and the loose shutter.
He forgot his old hunting boots, but he remembered to take the rose from Mama’s cheeks.
He left the sound of his big booming laugh all through the house.
He left his old hound, Blue.
He took instead Mama’s love of light. She sits now in darkness.
He left the big old family Bible sitting on the table in the corner, but he took Mama’s faith.
He left a half bottle of aftershave in the medicine chest and the smell of it when he’d hug me close.
He left the feel of his big warm hand in mine.
He chose instead to take the warmth from Mama’s love.
When Pop left, he forgot to take his watch, the one Grandpa gave him.
He didn’t forget to take Mama’s soft laughter.
Pop forgot to take the spiteful whisperings of neighbors.
He remembered though, to take Mama’s pride.
Pop left us yesterday_ I miss him_
But I wish he’d left Mama.

Copyright Elizabeth Parsons