R.I.P.

TytaniumK · June 2006

R.I.P.

I'd like to write
more about my father
--but--
I knew so little of him,
even though
we lived under the same roof
--seventeen Springs;
I left home that seventeenth Summer--

He was a quiet man
not sharing much
with others,
or at all with me;
he seemed to enjoy solitude...
Not me!
Not mom!

I tried to get to know him
when I came back from Thailand
----from Viet Nam
and things were getting better
until the alcohol
he always loved best
and depended on most
eventually took him,
and secrets locked inside his head only,
drifting, somewhat prematurely,
to his final resting place....

He always talked about
the Happy Hunting Ground,
and so, I hope he made it there!

But,
wherever you are, dad,
I hope you're happier
than you were
here--

Did you know I loved you?

...one o' my many poems...
Enjoy,
Ty-K

Anonymous · June 2006

Thanks for sharing your poety Ty-K. You write beautifully. I've never been a big fan of poety but have been reading a lot lately, most especially on this board, and have come to realize that there are so many different forms of poetry. You speak from the heart and from the soul. You are always saying things in support of the women here and I'm sure where you live. If there were more people in the world like you, it would definitely go a long way. I read today on this board of a woman whose husband has treated her most unkindly and there you were to offer yourself and take some of the brunt for all men...and sadly, there are many more women who have to deal with this in their lives, never mind breast cancer. I'm sorry, I ramble...please keep posting your poetry, your humour and your encouragement. I read you daily and you keep my hope and my spirit where I always want it to be -- at the top half of the glass.

And I particularly liked this poem...I had a strained relationship with my father, we were estranged for 25 years and he died 6 years ago. It is now, at this juncture in my life that I am able to go back and see the "Why" and understand him more as a person. No regrets because you can't go back and change anything but you can forgive to move on. Your poem made me think of him in a much kinder light today. My thanks.

TytaniumK · June 2006

S-h-e-r-r-y ... Shereeeeee Bay-Bee! (Remember that song?)

Thank you soooo much for your kudos--perhaps undeserved--but I'll take 'em! Been writing [my style] poetry many many years. I personally don't care much for many other styles, myself. Sound strange? I used to write the rhymey type, then became very bored with it, and changed my style into what you see today. It's ALL personal taste, I guess. I do feel from my heart & soul, m'friend. BIG, mean-looking, heavily-tattooed man who will cry at the drop of a hat. Sad moooovies always get me. Often evilelf will hand me a napkin in the movies. "Fu** You!", I tell her...lovingly, of course.

IF we believe everything happens for a reason, then I am here on purpose...not by chance...given this opportunity to at least offer kind words of support for ALL you brave [f]souls!

Seriously, I am no one special...I am just here for you [plural you] now because I wish to be & try to be as supportive as y'all can stand without going overboard and sounding phony! Being 61 helps too. If I was 20 or 30, I probably wouldn't give a rat's hairy butt! Make sense.

OK, I've dribbled on wayyyy toooo l-o-n-g. Again, a truly heartfelt THANKS~Sherry Baby!

Ty-K ...still rockin' in the FREE World...

csp · June 2006

Ty ,
Thanks for sharing your poems here with us .
This poem really touched me. I too had a strained relationship with my father, but because of alcohol.
I often wondered what his demons were.

hugs,
Carrie

christineK · June 2006

You were here for a purpose todsy.
Just this week we really started going through my dad's house and getting rid of all of his things. He died in Oct '04, right after my bc diagnosis. His house has been empty since then for various reasons (my treatment, my bros are owners of a very busy restaurant, I work for them. We all work long hours. Most importantly, we are procrastinators) Today we found his "journal" in an envelope addressed to us kids. All of those things pent up in his mind, locked in his solitude, now on paper. We all had a good relationship with him, we hugged and kissed and said we loved each other. Yet,there were so many things unsaid. How lonely he was after my mother's death and what a sad childhood he had with an absent father and alcoholic mother. OMG, my bro called me balling his eyes out and when I read them, I had to stop. It was too much to do in one sitting.
If you don't mind, I'd like to share this poem with my brother.
Thanks for posting. You are a true writer.

R.I.P.

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