‘We are teachers to our grandchildren’, a d’Verse prompt
He was supposed to teach
her math and now
he fucking won't because he's ~
We? What 'We'? Is this the
collective
'We who take being alive
for granted' or
'We who are not to live again
salute you - No - just
kidding! We're ~
He was supposed to teach her math!
He was supposed to
be here. Today.
He was supposed to
wish me a happy birthday.
He was not
supposed
to be ~
I grew a longer beard after Papa
died
Not shaving
is a Jewish
mourning tradition, you know
(did you?)
And it makes me look
older.
(Good - because I am!)
I have some white
hairs in it; some day
they will all be white
and I hope
to be
buried that way
when I am ~
Don't tell me that Papa
is teaching her
through me. He's not.
He's not teaching
her math;
he's not teaching
her
anything - because he's fucking ~
It's my birthday and -
I'll ~
I'll ~
The above poem is my take on d’Verse’s ‘travels in the wild’ prompt.
d’Verse gave us a selection of potential titles for our poems, and let us do the rest.
He will be teaching her if she wants to, if you will allow him too
And also wish you the warmest happy birthday
He lives on through your heart…..and he gathers round.
Thanks, Abi.
You are most welcome ben
❤
Ummmm, wow ❤️…. Love the passion and essence here. Nicely expressed. PS. Beards grey or not are the BEST 😊
Thank you.
One of the most heartfelt, unique, well done poems … it hits hard, stays there (as good poetry does.)
Thank you very much! 🧔🏻
Sentimental one! Loved the beards!Happy Birthday 💐
Thanks! 🧔🏻
Good one Ben!
Thx, Hobbo 🧔🏻
Marvellous, apart from a certain word!😞
I don’t curse much, but it is a word that I use, and poems like this wouldn’t be true to me if I didn’t use it where it feels right.
My Mom and Dad raised me speaking Russian at home, and my Mom didn’t teach me any curse words, but my Dad deliberately did – even though my Mom didn’t like it. He said that it’s important to have a grasp of the full range of a language in order to best use it.
I do understand! I have used the word myself. I just find it offensive in print!
❤
My father taught us curse words in foreign languages. I guess he figured it would keep us from really offending people?
Did it work? Have you been less offensive than you might have been otherwise?
Good question! Not sure. I learned all the swear words in English anyway. You also don’t derive the same satisfaction from calling someone a salope or telling them “Ferme ta grosse gueule!” or “Va te faire foutre!” when they aren’t going to understand you anyway.
Heheheh 😀
First, happy birthday to you. Second, what a beautiful poem with great depth of feeling. It really hits on many points. Lastly, the things we can not control, holes, empty spots once filled by those we loved. So well written. 👌💟🕯
Thank you so much for your kind comment 🙂
It’s painful, but I’m trying to deal with it as best I can… I know I’m not unique in having lost a parent or a loved one – this is the human story.
Is it your birthday today, David? ❤️💐
🤫 don’t tell anyone!
Aww…. Wish you (quietly) a very happy one then….🤗💐🌹 Stay blessed, happy and be the good soul that you are, always 😇😇🎂🎉
🙏💚
I struggle with beard growing. I also struggle with dad’s. How do dad’s love and judge sons? So your poem may be litteral. And I tip my hat to you.
I hope I am not presumptuous in say this next bit. When I read literally someone’s dad has died I compare it imperfectly to my metaphoric death to dad. It (that father or son death) is archetypical of that father and son disassociation or incoherency. I wonder how one of our — dad’s or mine- deaths will feel in literal reality. Sense I see my experience reflected in father and son death this type of poem is archetypical. Very reflective though I do not mean to bore you by looking too deeply into it. I simply appreciate it and hope you remember your dad kindly.
I suppose it is archetypical, as you say, Jerrod. Thank you for your contemplative response!
There was an amazing quote that I found in the book ‘KADDISH’ by Leon Wieseltier (p. 113):
The consistent change in direction of thought in this poem was quite powerful. I felt loneliness may be a touch of anger, but I also felt love. Well conceived well written piece.
Definitely anger, although I don’t go around screaming at the world all the time… And definitely love, which is something that I do try to express as much as possible.
Thanks, Rob – I really appreciate your remark ❤
Oh, you are walking in the wilderness of grief, and your poem took me right into the heart of it. Powerful writing, and very real – the best kind. Authentic, from the heart, great impact. Just wonderful.
Yeah, it is a raw poem. I didn’t get fancy in the slightest, as I am prone to doing.
Thank you for your kind comment, Sherry.
Damn, this poem is awesome and raw.
Happy birthday, btw
Thx 🎉 my birthday is always during Chanukah season in Israel so there are always yummy, assorted donuts available 🍩
I’m not a donut person myself (you can eat mine ;), but enjoy!
How can I eat your donut if you don’t have one?
(are you familiar with Israeli style sufganiyot?)
Buy yourself an extra donut (I live in the diaspora, so we celebrate an extra day of birthday yom tov) and pretend that it is from me. I don’t like sufganiyot either. But enjoy!
Ok, fine, you’ve convinced me 🙂
Do you generally not like pastries? Or is it specifically donuts that you are biased against?
Not a big donut or pastry person. Cake, cheesecake, brownies, cookies, ice cream, frozen yogurt – yum!
Lots of anger and sadness in this one Ben! He was supposed to be here… This is the story of so many these days. Well done!
Yeah. True.
This was about as straight forward and not-metaphorical as I get.
My Dad is dead, and I am angry about it. Not angry at anyone in particular – just angry and hurt.
I am sorry!!
I love the monologue form, and to be there left alone… filling the shoes of your father is hard.
It’s hard growing up and growing old
Björn,
I cannot do it. My father and I were very different people with very different gifts to offer. I can only give my daughter myself – I will never be able to give her him.
Thank you so much for reading.
And Happy Birthday Ben!
Thanks, Dwight 🙂
BTW, you can call me David, which is my first name – ‘ben Alexander’ means ‘son of Alexander’ in Hebrew.
Oh, thanks. You will have to educate me! LoL I thought Ben fit you very well! :>) I will try to reprogram this old brain!
If ‘ben’ is easier for you – that’s totally fine 🙂
No David is fine with me… I was just tying to be humorous!
❤
Very powerful! Reminds me of the pain I went through when I’ve lost loved ones. The scattered thoughts and frustration came through so vividly. Well done!
thank you.
it really sucks.
Agreed. Wish we never needed to experience it.
😢
Wow! your tradition of growing hair when mourning is exactly the opposite of mine. My tradition cuts off all hair for at least two weeks!
Thank you for sharing and Happy Birthday, David.
Angela, what tradition is that?
It’s a tradition shared by the nomadic tribes of the karamojong of northeastern Uganda, the Turkana of northwestern Kenya, and the Maasai of Kenya and Tanzania.
Cool 🙂 thank you for sharing that tidbit. Do women also participate in this tradition?
Especially a woman who has lost a husband, or child.
Interesting!
Happy Birthday, David (see, I remembered your name.) Just like the words aren’t there but are there, Papa isn’t there but is there. And the maths will be done….
I hope so! Thanks for the kindness!
You’re welcome.
I wish you a happy birthday, David ❤ 🙂Sending warm regards from India your way so that your mood lightens up. This was a beautifully expressed but very sad poem.
Thanks so much, M Jay. ❤
So sad. Your writing is unique.
Thanks for your kindness.
Oh my…. the ending makes it especially poignant… it’s beautifully written, I feel it —
I felt it.
Btw, funny you mention the beard makes you look older… when I first saw the pic, I thought, omg he’s so young! (even with the beard :))
David it’s a really good poem…
Sending hug. (((💔)))💗
I definitely look younger without it 👶
Thanks so much, Lia
Raw and yet very heartfelt..nice one Ben 👌😊
Yeah, this is a pretty pure expression of how I was feeling. Thanks for your kindness 🙂
Beautiful poem. Happy Birthday to you!
xoxo
❤
Your writing speaks volumes, Ben. Such a beautiful, heartbreaking piece. Grief is a monster. But you are staying afloat and I am proud of you for that. Also, a very happy birthday to you!!
Thank you very much, Rishika. You’re right – I am definitely staying afloat! It’s important not to lose sight of that fact. ❤
Happy birthday, David! I hope you have a wonderful celebration. ❤
Very powerfully-written poem. I have experienced grief, but never felt angry at the person who died, although my son reacted with anger to his father's death when he was twelve. He still has moments when he feels that way at thirty.
I like your beard. 🙂 More important, I like you for your humor and intelligence. 🙂
Thanks Cheryl. I won’t lie – I like my beard too 🧔🏻
I’m not exactly angry at Papa... Although I do wish he had taken care of health better than he did. His health was worse than it could have been otherwise if he had been more diligent.
But – I’m mostly just angry that he’s gone in general. It’s ridiculous to me – in the sense that it’s inconceivable. It just came out of the blue and then BAM – I no longer have a father. And I’m REALLY upset that my daughter and potential future children will never know him, nor learn from him.
Both of his parents lived into their 90’s! (he was only 70)
Wow! that is sad! I can certainly understand your frustration!
My husband died at 45 when my son was twelve and my daughter was 10. We had planned a trip to Russia (where my two youngest children were born) and Israel in lieu of my son’s bar mitzvah. It’s the younger generation who suffer most.
Take care, David. ❤
I completely agree, Cheryl.
Tell me, if you don’t mind, why were your children born in Russia? Both of my parents left the USSR in ’74, and my wife is originally from Russia – and her family still lives there.
My quadriplegic husband’s grandmother was from Belarus and his grandfather was from Poland. His other grandparents were also Jewish, but I don’t know their ethnic origin, but either Russian or Polish. My husband felt a connection to Russia. He had worked in the First Bush Bush Administration with a lady who started an adoption agency in Russia specializing in disabled kids who were not adoptable in Russia at the time.
We attended a meeting at the Cosmos Club in DC where this lady, disabled and single, told about adopting a paraplegic five-year-old girl from Russia. (She later adopted a second disabled girl. Both girls grew up to participate in wheelchair events at the Olympic Games in Greece, and one daughter won a medal.) She introduced her new adoption agency.
After we returned home, we discussed the possibility of adopting a child and decided against it because my husband was disabled and I was over forty. A few minutes later, he asked how I felt about the decision we had made. I told him that I felt a little sad. So we decided to go ahead. We ended up adopting a brother and sister, aged 6 and 4, from Ekaterinburg, Russia. He was a very devoted father for the last seven years of his life.
There post on on my blog. I will send the info.
Thank you for your interest. I hope it’s not too much information.
no, not at all – wow – do send the link please!
David, please see “Miami Beach,” 7/30 and “Blue and White Mugs,” 8/22 on my blog. Sorry, I am too technically challenged to send a link.
okie dokie!
If only emotions were numbers we could place neatly in order. The best we can do is wait for them to settle into their proper place. And maybe they’re there already, simply reminding us of what’s important.
Ken, that’s well put 🙂 especially because my Dad was a mathematician! I, as a person of words, agree with you whole heartedly.
Wow. My mom died 3 years ago this coming January, this is so relatable. Happy birthday to you!
I’m sorry to hear about your Mom’s death 😦
Thanks for the kind comment…
This is my fourth time back to WordPress. I found my way back here to your blog, it gets better every time 😊
Thank you so much 🙏
-David
Happy Birthday Ben
Wishing you words for your thoughts and wonderful days and ways to write
Thanks, Sangeetha – I had a good birthday! 🙂
Shabbat shalom!
😊
I don’t think we ever really accept losing a parent. For me It’s like my father’s gone and I’m angry and upset because he never said anything about not coming back. There’s much to tell him. But he does visit our everyday in some anecdote or another. My children remember or maybe just sense his strange combination of goofiness and kindness and their memories are kept lively with the way we speak of him…of stories that made our lives
You speak of your father and through that you speak of how much he means to you. God bless
*sigh*
It’s really hard for me to make peace with his permanent absence… but I’m trying.
Thank you, S.
Happy Birthday Ben! My dad was very good at math too. I didn’t know how special hearing him say happy birthday to me through a saved voicemail would be until I could no longer hear him say those words to me. Even without a voice recording, they are always with us. 💕
… I am trying to wrap my heart around the idea that “they are always with us” … but, honestly, I am struggling with believing that.
(sorry to be a downer, Michele 😦 )
That common phrase may mean different things to different people. For me, it means my departed loved ones are still in my thoughts and memories. Their words come to my mind in unexpected ways or memories of being with them appear. Sometimes the associations and memories are sweet and sometimes they are sad, or a mixture of both. I don’t think your struggle to understand my comment is a downer, just an honest statement/question, it seems.
Thanks so much for your kindness and support, Michele.
Shabbat Shalom 🙂
David
You are welcome, David. Thank you for writing about your painful loss. Expressing anger about your father’s absence is honest and relatable for many people. The line about having white hairs is poignant. I hope you had happy moments on your birthday, and continue having those. Be well.
🥰
Meine Kinder
meine Kindeskinder
erziehen mich
haben mich erzogen
ich gehe seit meiner
Kindheit
in meiner Seele
zum Unterricht
in die Schule
vor allem mein
das Versagen
meiner Mütter
nicht zu denken
an die Väter
im Bewusstsein
nicht weil ich
ein besserer Mensch bin
täglicher Bemühung
abzutragen
Herzliche Grüße
Hans Gamma
***
יום טוב
הילדים שלי
ילדי ילדי
לחנך אותי
גידל אותי
אני הולך מאז שלי
יַלדוּת
בנשמה שלי
לכיתה
בבית הספר
במיוחד שלי
הכישלון
של אימא שלי
לא לחשוב
לאבות
בתודעה
לא בגלל שאני אדם טוב יותר מאבותיי
מאמץ יומיומי
להסרה
כל טוב
האנס גמא
יפה מאוד, חביבי!
Danke
This is a lovely and moving poem. I felt your grief and your anger. Please accept my (late) condolences and my wishes for peace.
Thank you so much!