After the event

My mother died twelve years ago and my father died last month. After the first event I had this poem published-

After the event
I saw my Father after mum died. He looks smaller. He looks deserted. He’s not the same man he used to be. When I was a boy I thought he was Best in the world. I used to boast About him. “Best in the world my Dad.” It feels wrong me being bigger than Him, and not just in size. What can I do? His pains too deep to touch and anyway Fathers And sons just don’t talk like that. Besides                                                               he’ s Never watched Oprah and won’t know how to Get the pain inside on the out. Poor man. He does things he’s never done before. He cooks and washes. He irons does the                                                              shopping And sits and cries, and cries and cries. I was thirty-five before I saw Dad weeping. Now he can’t stop and I can’t help. To him however many of us are in the House it’s always empty 'cos Mum’s not there. He used to dream of this and hope to Do that. Looked forward to retiring. He wishes Now that he was dead, with Mum and what Can I say? “Don’t go dad we need you too.” Fathers and sons. If only we could communicate If only I could make him see. For me he’s Still the best in the world. Still.