Before you go …
Still tethered to this mortal coil
Each day struggling, we feel your toil.
Father, now your voice has gone.
Your eyes talk, love, mirth and scorn.
Your body, just a physical crust.
Soon to be small swirling piles of dust.
But worth not valued by remains.
Life is measured by what we gained.
Forget our future loss, ignore bereft.
Life is more than just a transition to death.
Because to us you are the real deal.
Power that raged now contained but real.
Legends abound of a life lived fully.
Stories of what should and should not be.
No time to ponder, no time to check.
For you took life by the scruff of the neck.
And as you go into the long night.
We proudly yours’ acknowledge your plight.
As you rage against the dying light.
We, so proudly yours’ salute your final fight.
And one Last Thing …
Seen you bullish and proud, seen you caring and broken.
Now I know it’s alright to be all things actual and spoken.
Right now, unfortunately, all we do is think of our loss.
No thought of all your value, now we only feel our cost.
But I promise you Dad that this will not last for long.
You taught us to survive, to move on and to be strong.
Influenced by action, we were not burdened by word.
For platitudes are cheap and false promises absurd.
Reflecting on the here and now and behalf of all of us.
We are thinking of you, as the physical becomes dust.
One last thing, as our contact is temporarily severed.
Loved you then, love you now and love you forever.
Rest In Peace beloved one, your lessons are learned.
Your memories live on, as your mortality is spurned.
One last thing, my Father, my teacher and my friend.
We will follow your code, sure we will meet you again.
Talk more …
You know what dad, we talk more now you’re dead.
Not verbal stuff obviously, cause it is all in my head.
When close by, I could always pop round for a chat.
But to be honest, I did not realise the luxury of that.
You chatter away now, telling me right from wrong.
You tell me don’t worry, it’s just a line in life’s song.
You tell me you are here, there’s no need to feel alone.
You tell me to buck up and for f**ks sake, don’t moan.
Perversely I now hear you louder than when you spoke.
No, it feels so real, not just some mourning s**t smoke.
Quite comforting really, our communication still intact.
I am feeling closer to you now, believe me that’s a fact.
Send your work to firstname.lastname@example.org