Carl Smith 1926-2011

[William the White]

commiserations...

My Father's Diary
by Sharon Olds

I get into bed with it, and spring
the scarab legs of its locks. Inside,
the stacked, shy wealth of his print—
he could not write in script, so the pages
are sturdy with the beamwork of printedness,
WENT TO LOOK AT A CAR, DAD
IN A GOOD MOOD AT DINNER, WENT
TO TRY OUT SOME NEW TENNIS RACQUETS,
LUNCH WITH MOM, life of ease—
except when he spun his father's DeSoto on the
ice, and a young tree whirled up to the
hood, throwing up her arms—until
LOIS. PLAYED TENNIS, WITH LOIS,
LUNCH WITH MOM AND LOIS, LOIS
LIKED THE CAR, DRIVING WITH LOIS,
LONG DRIVE WITH LOIS. And then,
LOIS! I CAN'T BELIEVE IT! SHE IS SO
GOOD, SO SWEET, SO GENEROUS, I HAVE
NEVER, WHAT HAVE I EVER DONE
TO DESERVE SUCH A GIRL? Between the dark
legs of the capitals, moonlight, soft
tines of the printed letter gentled
apart, nectar drawn from serif, the
self of the grown boy pouring
out, the heart's charge, the fresh
man kneeling in pine-needle weave,
worshipping her. It was my father
good, it was my father grateful,
it was my father dead, who had left me
these small structures of his young brain—
he wanted me to know him, he wanted
someone to know him.

The wonderful, wonderful Sharon Olds, my favourite living poet.

So glad you've discovered her also, thebish.

[Dujon]

William the White. My apologies for not responding earlier but I seem to have missed your original post.

Part of living is also the parting of loving souls, we all know that; but it's hardest when a beloved parent leaves us behind. Having my own father leave some thirty-odd years ago (he was 59) your situation brings back so many suppressed and sad memories. I still miss him - but not as acutely as you will miss your father at this time. If I might be allowed to repeat something I said to a cyber-friend only a few days ago (she has recently had the same experience): don't bottle up your grief, let it flow - it is salve for the soul.

[CAPSLOCK]

Hope you're getting through it.

[thebish]

The wonderful, wonderful Sharon Olds, my favourite living poet.

So glad you've discovered her also, thebish.

twas you who made the introduction, William - and I remembered she was your favourite modern poet...

[ratbert]

My respects. I lost my father at a similar age two months ago and the time between his passing and the funeral was a horrible one that I wouldn't wish on anybody. Your father and mine seem very similar in many ways - he was a tool setter at BAE, and proud socialist.

People are never gone as long as they are remembered. That's what I tell myself of my Dad every day when I think about him - a parent's benevolent presence never leaves you.

[Montreal Wanderer]

My condolences, William, and take comfort in the fact you had many years together and so many memories. Like Dujon, my father died when I was thirty (he was 63) and never saw his grandchildren. I still resent the years we could not spend together because he died too young. Yet, losing a parent at whatever age is a hard thing to bear.