my father's clothes
there is always a strange silence at wakes.
photo by kytalpa at pixabay
my father's clothes
and i wonder if his work clothes
his heavy cotton jackets
slacks
boots
will ever miss his hammers
saws
and nails
and the sawdust lodged in the hems.
and there at his funeral, his wake
laid out on a wooden chair
in front of his coffin
a white long-sleeve shirt
a blue tie with stripes
a grey pair of slacks, slightly frayed
and a pair of black dress shoes, polished
a combination he seldom wear in his life.
how do you explain death to the clothes?
how to tell them how much we loved him?
that he is not going to come back to us anymore?
and as we, his children
sat around a table folding
paper gold and silver ingots
to ease his passage to the afterlife
his cloths sat still and silent
under the fluorescent lights
and the flicker of candles.
31/03/2019
**********
Written for the Golden Point Awards 2019 poetry competition. Never got around to submit it.
"and a light
from an
oil lamp
to guide
the way"
-- dsnake1, hell notes
© cheong lee san ( dsnake1 ) 2020
my father's clothes
and i wonder if his work clothes
his heavy cotton jackets
slacks
boots
will ever miss his hammers
saws
and nails
and the sawdust lodged in the hems.
and there at his funeral, his wake
laid out on a wooden chair
in front of his coffin
a white long-sleeve shirt
a blue tie with stripes
a grey pair of slacks, slightly frayed
and a pair of black dress shoes, polished
a combination he seldom wear in his life.
how do you explain death to the clothes?
how to tell them how much we loved him?
that he is not going to come back to us anymore?
and as we, his children
sat around a table folding
paper gold and silver ingots
to ease his passage to the afterlife
his cloths sat still and silent
under the fluorescent lights
and the flicker of candles.
31/03/2019
**********
Written for the Golden Point Awards 2019 poetry competition. Never got around to submit it.
"and a light
from an
oil lamp
to guide
the way"
-- dsnake1, hell notes
© cheong lee san ( dsnake1 ) 2020
Labels: 80's, father, GPA 2019, grief, loss, poetry competition, Singapore, writing competition
posted by dsnake1 at 9:33 PM
20 Comments:
This is such a heart-wrenching but beautiful poem, Cheong. I am so sorry for your loss. :(
It is a strange juxtaposition, when the clothes no longer fit the man. A suit he rarely wore in life becomes him in death. There is a strange silence at wakes, the hushed tones, that somehow we don't want to disturb a person who no longer has the ability to hear. Your poem gave me the feeling of being out of place. It's all recognizable but doesn't seem the same.
Sanaa,
thank you.
we lost him a long time ago.
Lori,
thank you for your comment.
yes, there is a feeling of being out of place. he's gone but we still try to think that he's still around.
How do we explain grief to ourselves? This was a visceral description of loss.
thank you, Chrissa.
Going through the clothes my mother left this is really close to my heart. Maybe the best you can do is to wear some of them and remember.
A beautiful poem. I worry they will dress me in things I never would have worn when I die. I will leave instructions: my jeans and wolf sweatshirt. God forbid, a dress! Havent worn one since 1980. Smiles. I get a picture of your father from his workclothes. A lovely and loving write, Lee San.
This one makes me ache in recognition. The pain of loss is so alien, as if the events takes what we know and strips it of all (or most of what) we can hold on true. After reading your poem, I remember that my little brother was dressed in a suit for his funeral, then the fact that I never saw him in such attire hit me like a truck.
So much truth in this one.
Beautiful and deep. A great tribute.
Beautiful counter balanced piece here, full of telling details that paint a truthful picture, regarding the sometime ridiculous incongruity of death - loved reading tit...
I'm so sorry.
Oh, this touched my heart. So beautiful.
What a pity you didn't submit it; I think it's a wonderful poem, deeply poignant yet gentle, conveying so much emotion and personal history by (paradoxically) focusing on these material objects.
Bjorn,
No, they will not fit me, he was a much bulkier person. :)
Sherry,
thank you!
my jeans too, yeah. :)
Magaly,
thank you for your insightful comment. yes indeed, the pain of loss can be so alien. :(
Anthony,
thank you!
Scott,
thank you!
R's Rue,
thank you.
he left us a long time ago.
Beverly,
thank you!
Rosemary,
i have to something about this bad habit of procrastination. :)
i have to do something... aaah! typo
Poignant.
A beautiful poem and fine tribute.
Loss of a loved one (to me) is so surreal,it doesn't make sense. And then the realisation, the acceptance comes...
Of clothes; my father-in-law, the lovely Jim, was dressed in shirt tie and suit and I hardly recognised him - I think he would have preferred to leave this earth in casual dress, be himself.
Kind regards
Anna :o]
magiceye,
glad to see you. :)
Anna,
thank you!
yes, the experience can be so surreal. and i like what you write about your father-in-law.
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