A Son's Goodbye

This Poem is based upon true life events detailed in my story of my Dad's battle against Multiple Myeloma, a cruel form of cancer that attacks the bones, crumbling them and causing kidney failure.

A Son's Goodbye

Written By Marvin Thomas Cox-Flynn de Graham

Copyright © 2012 Marvin Thomas Cox

DBA: Marvin Thomas Cox-Flynn de Graham

All Rights Reserved

Martin Thomas Cox (November 3^rd, 1929--August 7^th, 2001)

Stop breathing when you die,

there's no reason why,

as in the earth you lie,

you should breathe stale air.

Take a change of clothes,

for how long, who knows,

in the same underwear, your nose,

can endure your stinky a*s.

You might also take a book,

flashlight, matches, and fish hooks.

You won't have far to look,

for some stink bait.

If you should get lonely there,

I'll be here don't despair,

breathing all this fresh air,

while you rot so silently below.

Don't think I won't miss you,

as death enters your new venue,

spending every day sad and blue,

because you're gone.

I'll never let your memory die.

Your stories bring tears to my eyes,

and I'll laugh every time I cry,

Dad, when I think of you.

(Written November 3^rd, 2012)

Reviews

[Chris Shaw]

Tough burying a parent after losing them to a cruel illness Marvin. You reminded me of my Dad who died at 60 from lung cancer. I hated the fact that he was buried rather than cremated. The thought of him rotting in the ground distressed me. Your final two stanzas tell me how much you miss him still, after all the years. It’s 32 years since my Dad died, never a day when I don’t think of him. The grief has softened and these days I smile when he filters through. A nice tribute in memory.

Chris

[Marvin Thomas Cox-Flynn de Graham]

Chris,

Thank you so much for reading ...As Life would have it, even in death, this piece is based upon real life events of that last and final visit I had with my Dad in those last moments very he died., for she was just naturally one who instinctively sought to make people laugh and smile, even while his life was coming to an end, as he instructed me to be sure to bury him deep and place heavy rocks upon his casket so that he would not float to the surface in the event of a flood and stink us all out. Seems he had seen some news of footage of such events down in Louisiana, where Hurricane caused flooding was resulting in just such a scenario in that cemeteries were literally coughing up their dead of caskets floating to the surface and drifting away, and so he made a joke out of it all to put a last smile on my face with a bit of a finishing touch to his personal life philosophy which I have laid out in my tribute memorial in his honor, titled, To Share A Smile, and which I am best reminded of by this poem written so excellently and eloquently by a member of AllPoetry.com that I shall share with you here for effect of full grasp of comprehension of that which he truly did ask me to do and which I am speaking of in tearful jest within the body and text of this piss poor attempt of honoring his memory of who and what he was as a great man and a good Dad ... As per pasted below;

Meditation on the floods of ‘94

And I think about the coffins
floating out of frame. The old
television like a box of faded
off-market crayons. The luster
lost, the proper name all
but forgotten. And I think
about the coffins. The ferries
of the dead floating
above houses. The suggestion
of what remains inside
too unsettling to consider. How
the body sinks in to the reality
of our fortunes when the mind
fights and fights to keep
those fortunes away. And I wonder
if the mind survives
the body. If the mind sees visions
of itself and recoils at the horror
of knowing what happens in the
after. The body transforms. This
would seem to be the purpose of life —
to keep moving from beauty
to the creation of beauty made
possible in demise. And the coffins
as symbols of our belief
we can hold back
the teeth of time. That we can carry
civilization out beyond
the breakers of reality
and continue to ferry the dead
closer and closer to returning
if we just hold on. But here. Here
we see them. They are not
them anymore. And we know this.
And as the water recedes
find no one has the courage
to open the coffins
that rest like moldering fish
outside our doors
© 5 months ago, ananke https://allpoetry.com/poem/15764103-Meditation-on-the-floods-of--94-by-
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