Another telly and wine night 5 April 2006
I never talked with my father
About the pain that he did feel
I did see the method he chose
To ease that feeling
Albeit only temporarily
I remember the tv nights
That we did share
When he, inebriated,
Sat in his fixed place on the
Couch
A place in which we were not allowed
To sit
For it was his seat his space his
Domain
The far right of the 3 seater with
The table and ashtray
Next to it
Where all the stuff he needed to
Make it through the day was laid out
In an orderly fashion
And on our tv nights I not only watched
The little screen that
Showed another episode of
Our favourite cop show Hill Street Blues
I also watched my dad
My father
And I intuitively understood
Why
Although I could not put it into words
And now When he’s no longer here
Deceased a long long thirteen years ago
I notice
That I am more and more
Becoming just like him
Choosing the same medicine
To ease the pain
The child becomes
The father
And my love for him
And my respect is
Neverending
My next glass of
Wine is waiting to
Be drunk I must be brave
And finish
What I’ve started
Here’s to you old man
May you have peace and
Rest
Still I’d wish we’d
Talked about the
Untalkable
Maybe next time
Cheers
(As you can see from the title I wrote this about my relationship with my father on the fifth of April 2006. Feel free to comment.)