Absence
I left my father lying there
unable to look him in the eye;
I was his only living child,
but I never flew back to say goodbye.
My absence tore apart my heart.
I couldn’t face a hotel room,
no house, no friends, no family,
in the town I once called home.
I remembered my dad for a little while,
but then his face just fled.
Now I seek his smile in this photo,
but his eyes fill me with dread.
No life, no light, no focus,
nothing that I recall;
I look at him quite helplessly:
but he can’t see me at all.
rogermoorepoet 
*absence
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What a sad memories are woven in wonderful words.hey dear roger !! What had happened with your father,?when one thing is near us then we ignore it but abaence of dt thing-we feel most hurted in its memory .am i right dear moor.
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He was on one side of the Atlantic and I was on the other. We were oceans apart when he passed away. It was a difficult time.
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Yeah.it is only happened by luck n time.it is naturally to sad for dt event,dear moor!!
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Sad indeed: it stays with me, as you can see.
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Heartbreaking. I wasn’t there with my own dad when he passed. He was in a different city. It always bothered me that I wasn’t with him, but I think he would have preferred it the way it happened. Still…
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With the Atlantic between us, it was never easy, particularly when my mum and dad both got ill at the end. No Skype in those days …
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Things have changed so much that way. Even with my dad, we didn’t have cell phones and easy access. Things happened quickly in the end, and that was just it. There was no time to get there.
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It still worries me. There wasn’t much I could do about it, but it is something that has stuck with me. Hard to shrug off …
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I understand it. I always wonder with my dad too…
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It’s always worse being an only … as Clare and I both are … everything falls upon that one set of shoulders …
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At least the two of you understand the dynamic for each other. It’s still a tough one.
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That’s very true. We worked hard at keeping the family boat back home from rocking too hard.
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There is little to nothing to say, but to think about, when you left home. Love your poems Roger.
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Te lo agradezco, Euge. A todos, nos ha pasado algo parecido. Es el problema eterno del emigrante que deja tierra y familia y no puede volver. Tan triste para todos … y yo, que he sufrido mucho con todo esto …
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