My Father's Death
Posted: 06 Aug 2022, 22:55
My Father's Death
Daddy, you lay on a bed, eyes closed.
You had made comebacks before--
a half dozen heart attacks...
Could you hear us?
You were an anchor
dropped in deep waters.
Jean was telling you how much
she loved you.
My turn was next.
I wanted to tell you about a diving trip
I had made years ago. You'll understand
why it's only coming up now.
It was to the South Pacific
to see a WWII convoy ship,
perhaps like one you'd sailed on.
I was stupid, going it alone.
noticing too late
the gathering hammerheads.
It makes an enviable story now,
but not then...
Anyway, one thought kept coming up
that afternoon as the hammerheads
massed larger and larger
overhead--
what I'd always meant to say to you,
an odd thing to think about
with sharks beneath my boat.
Daddy, as Jean stroked your hair
I found the right words
for my gratitude,
but timing isn’t my forte.
You were no longer lost
in a fog of morphine.
Your jaw hung open.
Daddy, one day it will be me
lying in a bed like yours...
dependent on luck
or strangers saving me,
vulnerable
as a diver without an exit strategy,
hammerheads refusing
to disperse, his oxygen low...
Only my son will linger
over the wreck of my body,
trying to come up with the right words…
I have already forgiven him
the way I pray you forgive me.
Daddy, you lay on a bed, eyes closed.
You had made comebacks before--
a half dozen heart attacks...
Could you hear us?
You were an anchor
dropped in deep waters.
Jean was telling you how much
she loved you.
My turn was next.
I wanted to tell you about a diving trip
I had made years ago. You'll understand
why it's only coming up now.
It was to the South Pacific
to see a WWII convoy ship,
perhaps like one you'd sailed on.
I was stupid, going it alone.
noticing too late
the gathering hammerheads.
It makes an enviable story now,
but not then...
Anyway, one thought kept coming up
that afternoon as the hammerheads
massed larger and larger
overhead--
what I'd always meant to say to you,
an odd thing to think about
with sharks beneath my boat.
Daddy, as Jean stroked your hair
I found the right words
for my gratitude,
but timing isn’t my forte.
You were no longer lost
in a fog of morphine.
Your jaw hung open.
Daddy, one day it will be me
lying in a bed like yours...
dependent on luck
or strangers saving me,
vulnerable
as a diver without an exit strategy,
hammerheads refusing
to disperse, his oxygen low...
Only my son will linger
over the wreck of my body,
trying to come up with the right words…
I have already forgiven him
the way I pray you forgive me.