Searching for what we’ve lost
by Elouise
Sit with it
Let it sink in
Recall the day and hour
The occasion
Sounds and faces
Sunday meeting clothes
Dressed up but not too much
For his memorial service
It’s already late in the day
Hungry for time
We linger with each other
Searching for what we’ve lost
Are we ready for this
What will we do now
His passing long anticipated
Sinks with the setting sun
How are you
I’m so glad you came today
I thought this nightmare
Would never end
Written after I looked at family pictures from my father’s memorial service. I wanted to distract myself and stop the tears that welled up. Instead, I decided to write it out.
My father’s dying was long and tormented. Chiefly due to his stubborn insistence on doing things his way, even though his body wouldn’t go there anymore. I often wished he had gone first, before my mother. But that didn’t happen. He was 96 years old. I was 66. The year was 2010.
©Elouise Renich Fraser, 30 August 2018
Three years after your father died I lost my sister and my mother (in the same year). I find myself deeply reflecting on your poem and it brings me bittersweet feelings of melancholy. I am grateful that I have found peace with my abusive stepfather who is still on the margins of my life after his divorce from my mom. My late sister never found that peace for reasons of her own. It deeply impacted her spiritual walk for much of her life. But during her battle with cancer, thanks largely to female cousins who related to her in ways I could not, she found her peace with God. I will be forever grateful for that.
I pray that you are finding that peace.
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Thank you, Dan. I appreciate your comment and your account of your own experiences. I think this kind of family business is the most important work we do for the next generation. Important, painful and hopefully rewarding from time to time.
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Well the old saying is appropriate. “Only the good die young”!
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I think I like your comment, Brian. I am, however, reminded that we aren’t spring chickens anymore. Especially you 🙂
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Thank you very much. Pope John XXIII whatever was in his 90s I think and they made him a saint, look what I have in store 👿
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Really heart touching poem.
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Thank you, Hams. I just left a few comments on your post for today. I enjoyed it! 🙂
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