When The Old Man Died I Did Not Cry (reprise)

How to Join	Member's Area	Private Library	Search	Sanctuary		Login
Main Forums	Discussion	Tech Talk	Mature Content	Archives	A home without a wall, Our haven without ends, A circle we all call Our Family of Friends!

icebox
Member Elite

since 2003-05-03

Posts 4383
in the shadows

0 posted 2015-06-21 02:31 PM

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

JerryPat2
Member Laureate

since 2011-02-06

Posts 16975
South Louisiana

1 posted 2015-06-21 04:23 PM

Oh, Icebox . . .

quote:
I never knew why
he didn't kill my mother
for the hell she put us through.

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. ~*~

Constance
Member

since 2001-07-28

Posts 393
Ohio

2 posted 2015-06-21 08:38 PM

This is one I will want to read many times. I appreciate both the skin and the bones of it. Thanks for the nuance,

latearrival
Member Ascendant

since 2003-03-21

Posts 5499
Florida

3 posted 2015-06-21 10:17 PM

I have always loved this one. I am sure I have a copy in my files. best to you,jo

JamesMichael
Member Empyrean

since 1999-11-16

Posts 33336
Kapolei, Hawaii, USA

4 posted 2015-06-22 08:32 PM

nice to read...james

	⇧ top of page ⇧
All times are ET (US). All dates are in Year-Month-Day format.