Irene Latham is gathering Poetry Friday today at Live Your Poem
I didn’t want to write about my father today, but I woke up and looked at the clock at 4:44 AM, so there he was. He would tell us that he always woke up at 4:44. He had a thing for double numbers. His birthday was 11/11/33. On this day 4/11/22, he had a stroke and died 11 days later on 4/22/22.
When I opened #Verselove, I saw a prompt that Kim Johnson shared in our poetry session on Wednesday at the Fay B Kaigler Children’s Book Festival. Unfortunately, Kim had a family emergency, so she had to leave on Thursday. She is supposed to be sitting with me as I write this morning. The loneliness has gotten the best of me, so I had to write about my father. As Kim and I said to our session participants, poetry can be healing. It’s a place of vulnerability. Kim’s prompt can be found on Ethical ELA.
Remember
I remember the phone call in the middle of class. I answered it. I remember thinking something bad had happened.
I remember I packed a bag for 3 nights max (I stayed 2 weeks).
I remember the gruff hospitalist rattling the bed with her pronouncement of no hope. You stared after her with anger and fear.
I remember the long days as you fought, grabbing tubes, glaring helplessly, speech stolen by the stroke.
I remember tears and singing, prayers whispering, silently longing to bring you back to us.
I remember someone said the deepest grief comes from the deepest love. I wasn’t ready to remember.
My father died at nearly the same time as yours, and was the same age. But we were not allowed in the hospital because of Covid. I appreciate your poem and the memories it brought back to me.
Wow, your dad and those double numbers! Cool. Thank you for sharing him with us, Margaret. I appreciate any opportunity to remember my father, even the heartbreaking times like in your poem. So relatable. I’m sure Kaigler was amazing — it always is! xo
Oh that final line–the emotion is palpable. Remembering on special days can be hard. I hope your remembering leads you to joy in the midst of your grief.
We all have such differing experiences with grief and yet when we describe our own, others can find something that resonates so strongly even when “I wasn’t ready to remember.” I got a phone call in class when my mother died, and of course I had that feeling “something bad happened.” Deepest grief from this deepest love… what more can be said… it is forever a part of life even as life goes on.
This was hard to read, Margaret, as my own grief is still so raw. I hope it helped to write it. I have yet to write a lot on my Dad’s passing. I know I will – I will have to. Thank you.
Special thoughts going out to you today, Margaret. “the deepest grief comes from the deepest love” is such a heartwarming sentiment. Thank you for sharing your very personal poem today. I think your father was sending you a sign.
Such a powerful, moving poem remembering your dad— you truly bring us there with you. And the double numbers how uncanny—must be messages there…Thanks for sharing Margaret.
[…] finally settled on a list poem and a poem by Margaret Simon that still stuck with me called “Remember“. In it, she wrote about her father’s stroke and coming to the hospital to see […]
Margaret Simon lives on the Bayou Teche in New Iberia, Louisiana. She teaches gifted elementary students, writes poetry and children's books. Welcome to a space of peace, poetry, and personal reflection. Walk in kindness.
Reflections on the Teche 
My father died at nearly the same time as yours, and was the same age. But we were not allowed in the hospital because of Covid. I appreciate your poem and the memories it brought back to me.
I’m so sorry. We were allowed limited time with masks. But once they moved him into hospice care the limits were lifted.
Wow, your dad and those double numbers! Cool. Thank you for sharing him with us, Margaret. I appreciate any opportunity to remember my father, even the heartbreaking times like in your poem. So relatable. I’m sure Kaigler was amazing — it always is! xo
Margaret: My thoughts are with you today…
Oh that final line–the emotion is palpable. Remembering on special days can be hard. I hope your remembering leads you to joy in the midst of your grief.
We all have such differing experiences with grief and yet when we describe our own, others can find something that resonates so strongly even when “I wasn’t ready to remember.” I got a phone call in class when my mother died, and of course I had that feeling “something bad happened.” Deepest grief from this deepest love… what more can be said… it is forever a part of life even as life goes on.
This was hard to read, Margaret, as my own grief is still so raw. I hope it helped to write it. I have yet to write a lot on my Dad’s passing. I know I will – I will have to. Thank you.
I didn’t want to write about it today. But the grief makes its way into poetry. You will write and the writing will help you heal.
Thank you.
Special thoughts going out to you today, Margaret. “the deepest grief comes from the deepest love” is such a heartwarming sentiment. Thank you for sharing your very personal poem today. I think your father was sending you a sign.
Such a powerful, moving poem remembering your dad— you truly bring us there with you. And the double numbers how uncanny—must be messages there…Thanks for sharing Margaret.
Your poem is so deeply felt Margaret. Thank you for sharing it and memories of your father with us. I wish you healing and sweet memories.
Oh, Margaret, this is so touching and hard. Hugs to you.
[…] finally settled on a list poem and a poem by Margaret Simon that still stuck with me called “Remember“. In it, she wrote about her father’s stroke and coming to the hospital to see […]