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I'm glad I was finally able to talk it out after more than ten years.
My father was a smart and nice guy. He was the best cook, driver and craftsman. A heart disease took away his happiness, and ultimately his life.
In his last years he lost his temper, and we didn't have a good relationship.
After he was gone, for a long time I refused to face my feelings. It took me five years to put them into words, that is the poem I wrote for him. Here it is.
The Rocking Chair On The Balcony
It’s still there,
the rocking chair,
quietly standing, or more precisely, lying
in the corner of the balcony.
Can you see it?
I see you wearing your navy blue cap which
covers your bald head.
The old black radio machine is buzzing
in your hand.
The clear sky is writing a soft song
on your face.
You are squinting outside the window
as if dreaming,
in the wooden rocking chair
on the balcony,
as the last time I saw you there.
The next time I met you
you were lying in a cold coffin.
You never noticed
how I pinched my arms,
when you threw those harsh words on me.
At that time you already got the
deadly heart disease,
that changed a kindhearted man
into an absolute sovereign.
I could hear you yelling at me behind the door.
I could hear you breaking your glasses into pieces.
After a long while of silence,
I heard you sobbing.
Have you sat down by my side,
and asked me how my day had been?
Have you given me a pat on the back,
and said you were proud of me?
I hated you,
for depriving my rights to be
a girl of a good father
or a father’s good girl.
I hated you,
for not giving me a chance to tell you
the most beautiful three words
in the world.
You were smiling, holding my hand
In my dreams.
I wouldn’t let your hand go.
I knew it never belonged to me.
And,
never would it be.
The sun is still shining, with
warm sunshine touching your shoulders and cheeks.
You seem to have fallen asleep
in the rocking chair
on the balcony.
I know you are there.
It’s been so long since I’ve seen you.
I miss you.
The rocking chair gradually stops rocking,
and stands, or more precisely, lies still
in the corner of the balcony,
as usual.
In memory of my father, 1959-2006
I am sharing my experience in hopes of helping or inspiring you in some way.
I love you all.
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💛 / dongdongwu01
Негізгі бет The story of losing my father at the age of 15 - Reading a poem I wrote for him
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