Open Poetry #49 |
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When The Old Man Died I Did Not Cry (reprise) |
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icebox Member Elite
since 2003-05-03
Posts 4383in the shadows ![]() |
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 hard and cold and he grown 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, 2015 by icebox |
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© Copyright 2015 icebox - All Rights Reserved | |||
JerryPat2 Member Laureate
since 2011-02-06
Posts 16975South Louisiana |
Oh, Icebox . . . quote: I wish hundreds of times that my dad would do SOMETHING mean and vicious to my mother, his wife. ~*~ When they give you ruled paper write sideways. ~*~ |
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Constance Member
since 2001-07-28
Posts 393Ohio |
This is one I will want to read many times. I appreciate both the skin and the bones of it. Thanks for the nuance, ![]() |
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latearrival Member Ascendant
since 2003-03-21
Posts 5499Florida |
I have always loved this one. I am sure I have a copy in my files. best to you,jo |
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JamesMichael Member Empyrean
since 1999-11-16
Posts 33336Kapolei, Hawaii, USA |
nice to read...james |
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