I Could Not Weep For Him

[Biggus]

I COULD NOT WEEP FOR HIM

I could not weep
When he was diagnosed
And I feared the worst
Or when the false smile appeared
And he feared it too
And put on a brave face

I could not weep
As I sat at his side
His hand once as strong as atlas
Now to weak to grip
Weak like a babe
More so

I could not weep
As I watched the frown
Furrowing his weathered face
Grey, expressionless
And as his frown faded,
As the morphine took control

I could not weep
As he lay motionless,
Breath shallow
Silent, almost
But for the occasional groan
Beneath the morphine

I could not weep
At his deathbed
As the monster within
Crept through his organs
Hastening the end
For him and for itself

I could not weep
As his muscles relaxed
And the pain was no more
As he exhaled his last
And his soul passed
When he was at peace

I could not weep
Not because it wasn’t macho
Nor for lack of love
It was perhaps numbness
Or a need to be strong
For family, others

I could not weep
When my father died
When he released his grip on life
And I kissed him goodbye
I felt only relief
That his suffering had ended

I could not weep
Not even at his funeral
When all who loved him gathered
And we shared memories
Even when the curtains drew
I could not weep for him

Fourteen years later
On a cold December morning
I held my first born son
And amidst the tears of joy
I wept for him
As I held his grandson

[PrinceMyshkin]

What an unexpected - and powerful - conclusion and such a sharp psychological observation.

I've often thought that if my mother had only lived to see the first of my grandchildren, she'd have chosen to hang on for several more years, so fond was she of my own children.

[ampoule]

What a lovely poem, Biggus, and such a truth. A friend was recently sharing how her mother had gone through several losses without shedding one public tear but when her little dog died she was practically inconsolable. The rest of the family was put out by it but my friend understood.

[qimissung]

This is very good. We are taught not to show sorrow and grief, somehow. I remember a number of years ago about a month after my brother died, an acquaintance asked me how I was doing. I was searching for words when she said, "You look alright." I still didn't know what to say, but of course, I wasn't O.K.

[goldenrod]

I felt your poem deeply on two levels. The loss of family members and friends and, having worked in a childrens' hospital for nine years, going to a general hospital and the realized relief? that, when we, inevitably, lost a patient, it was not always a youngster I had to watch die.
I later thought, on reflection, that it was burn-out.

goldenrod.

[Biggus]

Wow thank you so much all of you

[Buh4Bee]

I'm not sure if this (written below) has any truth to the poem, but this is what I wrote as a reaction:

The birth of the son was the link that was needed to process the level of loss felt.

[Biggus]

I think thats correct, I suppose it was as if when I held my son I was saying "look Dad here is your grandson" and I was hit by the sudden realisation that he would never see him.

[Buh4Bee]

thanks for the response, the poem really touched me.