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The memory of your face is fresh in my mind –
uncorrupted by the passage of time
no matter the vastness of that passage.
Much has been faced in your absence –
paths you would have helped me navigate
had that been within your power.
I’ve missed your wise words – your insightful advice
(the prudence attained over the course of your life),
and I’ve wished for the lessons you longed to impart at every critical juncture -
just when my mind was ripe with receptivity
so when I'd have to choose I'd make the right moves.
But that just was not to be.
I have cursed the malignance that took you from me.
Some time before your body failed it robbed
me of that "brilliant man," of whom Ma used to speak.
So when the mutinous cells of your stomach betrayed you
and their traitorous legions violated all regions,
smothering that brilliance and dimming your light –
I stood at your feet and I cried one night.
An immature babe watching his hero fade away
as an invisible enemy consumed him.
Impotent - unable to come to your aid
as you had done for me countless times.
Later, I'd have no memorial tears to shed –
the ducts were tired when your body expired - until now.
Now, tears stream relentlessly as I pen this
in acknowledgement that grieving for loved ones is endless,
but strength of character makes it more manageable with time.
I only wish you could have seen your expectations for me confirmed,
Reassured that the lessons you taught me were learned.
and did not all fall on deaf ears.
Though at times I am sure that is how it appeared.
-In memory of you, Pops, with my increasing admiration and love,
HymnAgen
Visuals @ http://headroominations.blogspot.com/2014/08/a-heros-remembrance.html
