It’s a couple of weeks before Christmas, And I sit thinking about years gone by, Closing my eyes, I can see smiling family faces, Those of parents, grandparents, siblings, children, My memories feel like short silent movie clips, The faces, now colourless and blurred with time, They feel like they belong to someone else, As a grandfather myself now, I contemplate the future, Will I be smiling when my seat at the table is empty, Silently existing in someone’s distant memory, Imprisoned in a blurred grey thought released once a year, Or have I really been that way all along?
We never spoke apart from several letters, Childish and hand scrawled, long before email, Two young children, cousins, distant pen pals, Living on opposite sides of the earth, Recently we’ve reconnected, And I’m constantly surprised at how, Equally insane and completely alike we are, Still living on opposite sides of the earth, The probability against us physically meeting is 99%, We’re both Grandfathers now, but we’re still kids, I don’t need to hug him, although I’d like to, But I can take solace in the fact that, We are technologically inseparable now, Two sides of the earth now tethered, Two lifetimes connected as one, Real family you just connect with, And love instantly.
You are here, but you had to fight to be so, It angers me that your start must be so hard, But that is our way, I encourage your strength, so grow strong, You’re already so determined, In your blood is the fire of generations, In your tiny heart beats your ancestors, loudly, You already possess the power to erase my armour, At our first meeting, I know the deal will be done, I will be helpless, there will be no negotiation, Devotion, unexpected and certainly not withheld, And I am ok with that, A sweet little angel arrived in secret, Bringer of healing to the broken, You I will never witness my inner walls, To you my heart is freely and forever open, You need never ask, For my entire life has been yours, before you arrived, For you are the blood of my blood.
I feel so frustrated, Like something inside needs to snap, But I’m holding it in, I don’t quite know what it is, It isn’t happiness, It isn’t sadness, It is something else, Perhaps unspent anger, Or a lament for days past, Perhaps for the people I’ve lost, I think it is my hate for my relatives, And their flaccid amusement, Their revolting periodical care, Don’t feign your amusement for my family, You disgust me with your weak views, You are all dead to me.
It’s a cool quiet Saturday morning, a time to think about life, Still drowsy from an evening of drinks and a restless sleep, I sit and contemplate the second piece of my puzzle, my father, The things he has taught me, and how he helped shape me, Now elderly and unwell, he’s constantly in my thoughts, He taught me to be a good man, and to work hard for my family, To be honest, loyal, trustworthy and kind, although some may scoff, He taught me to help others, whenever they may need it, To do what I say, and be where I say I’m going to be, Actions, not words, are the core foundation of being a man, He taught me to protect and love my children against all odds, To be tough, yet playful with them in equal amounts, To pay my bills, pay my own way, and to not take advantage of others, He gave me the opportunity and tools to succeed in life, He ensured technology was available for me to learn and live easier, He did his best to get me here, while carrying his inner pain silently, His memories are leaving him now, and he seems fragile, Not the once strong soldier, mechanic, truck driver, builder he was, A life should be remembered, not stolen from your mind by sickness, Sickness took his wife, took his hair, but never his dignity or humour, He has seen and done so many things, and helped so many people, And he rarely asked for help along the way, but time is a cruel mistress, And she creates wraiths from mountains.
We’ve spent the last few weeks now, busily preparing, So much to do, before reaching this feast we’re sharing, We’ve renovated, tidied, chopped, sliced, and ran to and fro, But we have all the work done now, so it’s on with the show, It’s early, just the cockatoos outside share this bright morning, Screeching at the sun, it’s the afternoon heat they are forewarning, An Australian Christmas is hot, some years it can be quite obscene, Yet a fat bearded man in a red winter coat, can always be seen, Kids still sing of sleigh bells, some families eat a hot roasted meal, But thankfully culture is changing, and we’re finding our own deal, For some, there’s backyard cricket, barbecues, salads, and cold beers to plunder, Because there is no freezing Christmas, when you are living down under, Our family will arrive later this morning, and some final cooking will be done, Before we sit and eat, chat, and then listen to the air conditioner’s hum, No fat bearded men in red winter coats are on display here, But there will be plenty of food, creamy desserts, and some lively cheer. Although our decorations are black, the lights will still be shining bright, When, with full bellies, we surrender another Christmas to the night.
Christmas is near now, but there’s no time to toast,
My children are adults now, and this year I am the host,
A year will come soon, when I’ll come along for the ride,
When this life grows bigger, than what I can provide,
Then I’ll be the visitor, and Dad combined,
Two weird aspects of my life, once a year entwined,
This year, if there are full bellies and smiling faces, I’ve won,
For the best gift of all, is this moment of togetherness and fun.
I wish a merry time to all, no matter what your personal beliefs, religions or lifestyles are. I'm not a religious person, but I do appreciate that some of you are, enjoy the end of 2024 with your loved ones. I'll see you all again next year. Love from my family to yours. xo
Dan Verkys 