(Poor Richard mourns his long lost father,
lost to that void of nothingness.)
Poor
Richard, heavy hearted,
filial
duty now departed,
how
could he have ever loved this man,
this
stranger in his father’s body.
Hero
that he was, his guide and mentor,
afore
that dark place took him over,
polished
off his very mind til all about him
lost.
(Poor Richard backs and backs away.)
Anna
:o{
Kerry
at Real Toads has us writing micro poetry following the theme of “This is not
what we came to see…”
The
words are of how difficult my sons find it to visit their dad. A particular son, whose dad was his hero, is visibly shaken to the
point he is robbed of speech on the
occasions he visits his dad, his grief his loss is palpable. He is slowly backing away as this is the only
way he can cope.
I
understand this as when my mum was robbed of her identity by that that is
dementia, I found it very difficult to love this stranger who inhabited my mothers body and eventually
didn’t…
Image:
courtesy of Wikimedia Commons
Author:
Gert Germeraad
13 comments:
Your note adds a certain depth to the words. The pain of such a situation is so incomprehensible to others but one can feel the trace of it in your verse. Sad, etched with life.
It is most trying and frustrating to the minders especially when cleaning up their soiled person. Why their minds should desert them many refused to understand!
Hank
I do know this.. i know it all too well... dementia as that stranger inside... maybe we need a strangers care to cope with it... My mother is rapidly declining too.
This is the human condition at its most painful for both father and son... Such a touching portrait from the viewpoint of one who understands too well.
You have described with empathy and understanding how the loss of a beloved person to dementia affects his or her children. Very well done. A difficult situation for all, especially those surrounding the one with dementia.
A sharp and sincere poem Hank, thanks for sharing
Have a good Sunday
Mine is HERE
much love...
Loss has very strange effects on us... We think we know what we'll face... Then we see it, and must run...
It is so hard to watch your parent leave you, forget you, to watch the mind devour itself. My mother had Alzheimer's.
Nicely told, Anna. Makes me remember, I do a lot, of the day I went to visit my Dad and he called me "Jim". Most times he called me by one of his brothers' names or an other acquaintance. That helped me to know, still, that I was family.
..
Luckily my people both died Compos Mentis, but I had the feeling that both were en route to become somewhat 'vague'. It's a terrible thing to lose that connection to a parent.
I can imagine too well what it must be like to watch a parent's mind fade in front of you. The outside still seemingly the same but the inside lost forever.
Very, very difficult. Your poetry always faces these difficult things unflinchingly but I am sure it comes at a cost.
This resonates with me because my paternal grandmother has dementia...
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