Look, there’s no No BS post today. My father, who’d be in hospital for the past 6 weeks fighting kidney failure, passed away on Tuesday.
It’s really knocked me about. Saddest day of my life. I thought I might write about, but I just need to sit with it. It’s hit us all pretty hard. He was 85, and you’ve got to go sometime, but still, it’s hard to say goodbye to the man you always looked up to. It leaves a big hole in the world.
Anyway, here’s a poem someone sent me. That’s what poetry’s for right? The things that can’t be said?
Back on line next week.
Rest in peace, dad.
Old Wilf’s dead.
They don't make 'em like that anymore,
the bricks and mortar, the struts and the floorboards of a family
and everything that he built.
Funny how things look different in reverse
… somehow easier, somehow worse,
somehow life like the taillights of a hearse,
just gets away from us.
So take the photos from the frames of dust and pin them to the door –
that bloke, strong as a horse, his family,
holding a baby as easy as a sack of wheat,
held me once too,
And there's nothing to regret.
– it was a good life, a good run,
a good knock.
But still I just can't shake the feeling,
that there's something that's been lost.