Geoffrey Armes: My Father

My Father · Oct 15, 04:19 PM

Read by Constanza, Oct 8, Kingston:

There are no words to adequately describe the huge void now vacated by my father. His ever present presence just was, a place that resonated without and within.

This mortal coil is not easy, and we each embark on it with our own peculiar pieces of baggage and disadvantages of circumstance.

My father was handed grueling early years (NB he had TB and a consequent long and painful bout of hospitalisation) as a world war raged around him. Many would have collapsed under the load, instead he evolved into a noble man, who continued to learn from life’s vicissitudes, an ever evolving, thoughtful and compassionate man, who inspired deep love in those who knew him.

I am proud to have sprang from such a seed.

As noted, the void is huge, and I had – have – no way to truly express what I feel. The first words that came to me were not mine, but those of Houseman:

..for a breath we tarry…

Suddenly this life seemed only too short.

The poem reads:

From far, from eve and morning
And yon twelve-winded sky,
The stuff of life to knit me
Blew hither: here am I.
Now—for a breath I tarry
Nor yet disperse apart—
Take my hand quick and tell me,
What have you in your heart.
Speak now, and I will answer;
How shall I help you, say;
Ere to the wind’s twelve quarters
I take my endless way

(AE Houseman)

As the first days after he went passed, I discovered my own ‘poetic’ fragments lurking within.

Day two I saw myself, up late, mourning:

He waits in the night, while the trees bow to the wind, and watches for the visitor who will not come again

and a friend answered,

For the one who waits silently, may the absence be filled with light; for the traveller that found a new direction, may his path be filled with light!

Day three, I made supper for the family, and a place was set for my father.

Day four I found myself still up, alone.

Watch from the window, there’s wind, but no dust above the road long trod. There’s one who walks the road alone, only my love can follow him there.

I celebrate my father’s life, one that was rich in experience, and lived by a man of rare nobility and willingness to work towards a better life for all of us, who follow on from him.

With love from NYC,

~~~~~~~~~~~