“Only For A Moment” (In Memoriam: Benjamin M. Neideigh, Sr., born September 17, 1915, died December 7, 2006) Eight years ago, I sat there, Beside the rented hospital bed Squeezed into what used to be My bedroom, And held Dad’s hand, Being present for him, Witnessing his passage. When—after long months Of decline and Frank, clear-eyed, Unsentimental conversation— His sleep Turned dark, deep, Breathless and eternal, I sobbed, Loud and racking, But Only for a moment. A few days later, The usual postmortem ritual Unfolded as he wanted. I greeted guests. I said comforting things, And comforting things were Said to me. I nailed the “Stoically grieving only son” Thing. During the service At the funeral home, The minister du jour Read words sent by my Dad’s younger brother, Himself a minister, Who for some reason Could not be bothered To travel south A few counties and Officiate his Last elder sibling’s Final rites. The bile of bitterness Rose inside me and I wanted to scream, But that feeling Lasted Only for a moment. Roughly an hour after that, Dad’s casket was lowered Into the grave next to Mom, Beneath the headstone They chose to share. I tossed the obligatory flower Into the rectangular hole, Landing it on the coffin lid, And turned away. I have never returned. Dad isn’t there. Mom isn’t there. Only memorials of death And costly containers of decomposed matter Are there. Only my Dad’s flaking chrysalis Is in that coffin Beneath the sod In front of that headstone. He is in Heaven, Paradise, Nirvana, Valhalla, Elysium, Arcadia, Shangri-La, The Land on the Other Side of the Bridge. And/or He is the Universe. He is in the magnetosphere. He is, perhaps, in the Van Allen Belts. He is—given The impermanence and fallibility Of technology— Almost certainly In the biosphere. And we can be certain He is in my genetics and my son’s. He is in my memories, and my son’s, And the memories of many others. Somebody of note once said Something to the effect, “Why do you seek the living Among the dead?” So when I think of returning To that gravesite, The thought Lasts Only for a moment. A statement of fact Rather than grandiloquence: Dad is always with me. Our time together is No longer measured in “When are you going to stop by?”, “How long can you stay?,” And “Do you wanna watch The rest of the ballgame?”. It is now, more or less, a continuum. Dad is unforgettable, Ever-present, A voice inside all the voices… Which means he’s alive. Oh, true, sometimes, in the Rush of life And the Impact of strife, He drifts away. He’s out of my mind, And no doubt enjoys peace Away from the roil of my thoughts… But Only for a moment. © Verse-Case Scenario, LLC 2014 ------ I rose early to complete this one. The day of my father’s death—being the anniversary of the deaths of so many other Americans in 1941 and the start of a worldwide conflict that would cost countless lives—is already essentially somber, solemn and reflective. I want to have these words, these thoughts, out in the ether for the whole of this day… in that gestalt of looking back and remembering. Pearl Harbor certainly changed my Dad’s life, and to an extent mine. Had it never happened, my parents would have married—and I probably would have been born—in 1942. Plus, Dad and his twin brother Howard (“Hob”) would have been able to fully enjoy the Oldsmobile convertible they bought together in ’41. It was fully loaded, and Dad believed it to be the first car in Lititz with an automatic transmission. After he and Hob went to Basic, custodianship of the Olds fell to the same younger brother who was mentioned in the poem… and he trashed it. Or so said my father. Obviously, I wasn’t there. But I had (and have) no reason not to believe him. These little burrs under the saddle are part of everybody’s lives, of course. They just seem to come up in memory at the times when they’re least welcome. This is why my relationship with nostalgia is, at best, tenuous. I am slowly beginning to weed out the bad recollections from my life and cultivate the good ones. But (for me, anyway) it’s a process. May your memories blossom into full, fragrant flower.
Posted on: Sun, 07 Dec 2014 13:08:37 +0000
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