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jwesley
Member Rara Avis

since 2000-04-30

Posts 7563
Spring, Texas

0 posted 2004-11-05 05:18 PM

My Father, My Child

Don’t know if Daddy knows he has grandchildren.
Dementia claimed him about the time they were born,
he became confused, forgetful, oblivious to what was right before him –
even me, my brother, my mother – we were all strangers most of the time,
and the years did nothing to improve his plight.

Momma’s gone now, my brother,
well, he’s doing  his thing,
he has his own family, his own life.

Daddy?  Daddy has me,
my wife and his grandchildren – all of us,
whether he knows it or not
and I often, like today, think about my youth,
and Daddy’s cognizant days.
Day’s we spent together when I was me,
without a doubt.
Day’s when he knew everything there was to know,
and instilled as much as he could in my head, my heart.
Day’s when he and momma held hands
glowing with the flush of love
they shared with us boys.

I remember Daddy even now,
in my growing years,
but Daddy doesn’t really remember me,
and I don’t know if he knows he has grandchildren or not,
but sometimes when he looks our way,
I see his eyes brim up,
and a tear or two roll down his cheek,
and I hope.

I wipe the offal from his body,
just as he did me so many years ago,
I feed him, I help him from room to room,
dress him, put him to bed, dim the light,
kiss his cheek, his nose. . .

. . . and I will Always remember him,

- my Father, my Child.

      ~ ~ ~

w. james beard, jr.
© november 2004

... not about My father, and I'll have to work on the ending, it's not really what I wanted but we're headed for a movie and I'm writing this realtime while Terry was getting ready and now she're raring to go so have to end it.  Later...j.

[This message has been edited by jwesley (11-05-2004 08:10 PM).]

Martie

Moderator

Member Empyrean

since 1999-09-21

Posts 28049
California

1 posted 2004-11-05 05:37 PM

Jimmy......sniff...memory of my father has come pouring down on me from the words of your poem. He was my child too, for a time. Such tenderness in you, what you do for him and the way you write of him...I know that he is very lucky to have you...even if he doesn't realize it. Bless you!

Susan
Member Ascendant

since 2004-03-27

Posts 5104
walking the surreal

2 posted 2004-11-05 10:43 PM

Not what you wanted - yet it stirs the tears in my eyes - and it makes me think of my mother caring for my grandmother - and of I for my mother, though mom did not have dementia, she was very ill and needed a lot of caring - 'tis beautiful, this -