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| Blogs > Loreli_Seawytch_ > My Blog |
One more Saturday to go Fishing
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One more Saturday to go Fishing Just one more Saturday Fishing He always came to me When he had a booboo I would clean the abrasion with Detol, he was always so brave His little face scrunched in pain But never a sound escaped his lips I would cover his booboo With a snoopy band aid his favourite Every Saturday without fail We went fishing together, I taught him to bait his first hook.... I laughed so hard tears running down my face The worm kept slipping off his hook His concentration so poignant Reminding me of his father When on this same jetty On this same lake I taught him to catch his first fish, It was almost as small as a sardine He was so proud You would have thought He had caught the grand daddy Of all barramundi I was there the night when He brought his first Steady girlfriend home to meet His grandma and I He was so shy, Yet so proud, of his girl So protective of her Just like he was with his sisters... I was there and remember like It was last night, when after, Helping his grandmother with the dishes He came to me, we sat there for about Ten minutes, he kept clearing his throat I knew he wanted to talk and it was important To him, he was so nervous, finally he told me That night we had our first serious argument Angry words that night spoken by us both I tried to stop him, I pleaded, as did his grandmother But as his father before him He was quiet but stubborn But pop, you must see It is the right thing to do, Please pop please Give me your blessing He came over to me Bent down, and took my hands in his And repeated Pop it is the right thing to do You know that So I went to the bus top with him, Held him tight in my arms And unashamedly I kissed him Let the tears fall unheeded Down my face I stood there till the bus had been Out of sight for a long time; Still waving, not caring that all Saw red eyes; saw the raw pain etched there I was there when he graduated, Despite my misgivings I was so proud of him There he stood tall and proud, Hugging his grandma and I Who was this tall young man? He had come to the academy A young boy barely shaving, Now a confident young man Stood before me All the proud young men All with the pride of our nation Resting on their young Enthusiastic But naïve innocent shoulders I was there when he boarded The massive troop carrier plane To fly away to that far off land I was there when the car pulled up Next to the front kerb Outside our home I was there when two young men Sat my wife and I down Explaining how brave he had been And how he had been loved by all, How proud our nation was Of his sacrifice I was there when they gave me the flag Of a grateful nation I was there when they fired off a volley Of rifle shots in his honour I was there when many of his comrade In arms came and told my wife and I What a fine young man he had been And how they had be honoured To call him friend... But I was not there I refused to be there When he was lowered into the cold earth I had been there when a grateful nation Buried his father my I was there when the lights Went out of his wife’s eyes Slowly retreating from the world I am here now teaching His and My great grandchildren how To put the worm on the hook I wish I could have gone fishing With both my boys “Just one more time”. As I sit here now quietly Fishing with my great grandchildren I offer up a fervent prayer I hope to hell a grateful bloody nation Do not bury my Great grandson or great grand Dear God please hear my plea 
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I just cried
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