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Open Poetry #47
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When The Old Man Died I Did Not Cry (redux)
| Open Poetry #47 |
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When The Old Man Died I Did Not Cry (redux) |
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icebox Member Elite
since 2003-05-03
Posts 4383in the shadows 
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He was still alive when I took his hand; his strength was almost gone, his eyes were child bright with the good fear of the first big kid ride at a real grownup amusement park. You see, I knew he had ridden the Coney Island Cyclone because he had ridden it with me; I could see that he was thinking this was going to be an even bigger ride. There are always conversations left unfinished, precious trivia left unsaid it goes along with living with memories of the dead. He tried to say it all then with his eyes; he couldn't talk real loud, his life clock was ticking fast and the spring was almost all run down; I said, "So they tell me you're taking a little trip and leaving the old broad home." He tried to laugh, could only gasp with all the energy he could spare. I held his hand and walked with him as they rolled him down the drive to a shiny quilted metal meat wagon. He smiled when I asked if he wanted them to blow the siren loud, just for him. When we got to the door a young paramedic dared to try to move me back, but I was holding hands. I scared the poor young boy with eyes my Pa had given me long before I was a man. His own eyes sparkled up at me, and he was looking proud going off to die while I said, "If they've got dancing girls you better save a few for me, because I'll be there directly, it really won't be long." With that he squeezed my hand with all the old familiar strength that I had always known in him, when I was just a child, when I'd wait for him for days on end wondering if this time was going to be the time he was never coming back, but then each time, when he finally did return, he would grab my hand and squeeze until I thought maybe it would break; then he would throw me on his shoulder and we'd barely make it through the door. I had come to wonder where that man had gone, in long years of growing old apart, when all of life turned cold and he grew smaller in my eyes. I never knew why he didn't kill my mother for the hell she put us through; I guess that's where his strength had gone, trying to save his children's lives, trying not to lose his mind, trying just to stay alive, He really was a stronger man than I. So, looking down at him knowing I had made him laugh, knowing he was not afraid to be afraid, knowing he had realized he had no more need to save his energy, I let him crush my hand in his and give it all to me. ©2003, 2011 by icebox |
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| © Copyright 2011 icebox - All Rights Reserved | |||
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latearrival Member Ascendant
since 2003-03-21
Posts 5499Florida |
I like this so much. I Have shared it with my sons a while ago.Thanks for the repeat.jo |
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Martie
Moderator
Member Empyrean
since 1999-09-21
Posts 28049California |
Charly...Now you went and made me cry...hugs to you to give your old man when you see him next. |
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ice Member Elite
since 2003-05-17
Posts 3404Pennsylvania |
Your old man was quite a guy, and so is his son. |
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Margherita Member Seraphic
since 2003-02-08
Posts 22236Eternity |
Oh, you really tug at my heartstrings with this outstanding poem, dear Charly. How good it was that you were there holding hands when the time came! M |
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martiniat8 Senior Member
since 2003-06-21
Posts 897Prague, Bohemia, Czech Republic |
amazing story, reminds me of my last conversation with my father |
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Marchmadness Member Rara Avis
since 2007-09-16
Posts 9271So. El Monte, California |
What an amazing poem this is, Charley. I don't know when I have read a poem that let more of an impression on me. Ida |
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JerryPat2 Member Laureate
since 2011-02-06
Posts 16975South Louisiana |
"I never knew why he didn't kill my mother for the hell she put us through;" My sentiments exactly. ~ Those are my principles, and if you don't like them ... well, I have others. ~ |
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icebox Member Elite
since 2003-05-03
Posts 4383in the shadows |
Thank you all for your kind words. |
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