05
What lies beyond the veil of mortality?
LETTING GO
“It’s Okay to let go Dad.
You know we love you so.”
“I love you too Son.
I just don’t want to let go.”
From the moment you emerged your mother’s womb,
frail, pink, annoyed, and alive,
your mother and I have been
slowly letting you go
We smiled that day
when you first began to crawl
or, more precisely, your thighs and forearms
propelled your little body across the hardwood floor.
We worried that you would never
be able to lift that belly from the floor,
not comprehending that was the 2nd time
we would be forced to let you go.
Shortly after you first stood up
you darted out into the street,
off into a 4th of July crowd,
up into the school bus,
or down to the beach,
and it seemed that wherever you ran,
you were running away from me.
When must one begin to finally let go?
Was it the day you no longer fit
in the cradle of my arm
or the day you came home and declared
“I don’t need you no more!”?
Or the day you proclaimed
“This is my girlfriend.”
“The hell it is!”
“You need to keep your mouth shut”,
your mother proclaimed,
“She may be your daughter one day.”
I kept silent
But admittedly smiled
The day that little tramp
broke your tender heart.
When we were young
Our lives were like a free form poem
No rules / No meter
No obligation to follow a form
As we grew older
And fell victim to time
Forced to let go
And bow to rigidity of rhyme.
Like when I stood there silently
as you walked down the aisle
or when I let you navigate
the birth of your child?
Or the many times,
I listened to you vent
offering no advice
keeping my opinions in check?
You may have thought
I had no more wisdom to sew
or perhaps that your father had
decided to let go.
Truth is, I was secretly holding you
in the cradle of my arm
praying daily to Mary
that she keeps you from harm.
When must one finally let go?
I may be the last to know.
I still grasp your mother’s hands
though she left us long ago.
I saw the guilt in your eyes
when you took away my keys
and when you said senior living
would be better for me.
Mom and I raised a good man
with so much love in his soul
and now I was the old man
desperately hanging on to control.
But now I feel tired
My eyes have lost sight.
I hear their voices prattle on.
“Are they asking for advice?”
My voice had gone silent.
Only the rattling remained.
I feel a warm breeze in my ear
and my hand being squeezed.
And the annoying beep
Of that damn machine
Coldly counting down the syllables
“It’s Okay to let go Dad.
You know we love you so.”
“I love you too Son.
I just don’t want to let go.”