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By Talisker
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14 February 2007 |
The Duncan in question is Weasel's uncle. His funeral is this Saturday - I never knew the man, only heard of his gradual decay in dispatches over the years. Perhaps others who have watched the slow demise of relatives will relate?
Oli Duncan rotted from within, like a windfall apple. His mind turned first, not soft and sweet, not overripe, but hard as old cake. His body followed on, failing by degrees, five senses became two, limbs withered on the vine. Is life not cruel, that extends beyond facility? Oli 14/02/07 |
Written by LynB (435 comments posted) 14th February 2007 | Yes, Oli, I can relate to this poem. I watched my dad go slowly downhill, with ischaemic heart disease. He was always a fit, strong, capable man, who could turn his hand to anything. - cars, DIY - you name it. Towards the end, after five heart attacks - he was weak, hardly able to put his own clothes on, depressed and frustrated at his inability to do things he could always do before. Each heart attack starved his brain of oxygen, and sometimes his speech was affected, too.
To watch someone I loved so deeply go from being the picture of health, to someone who needed oxygen to breathe, was the most heartbreaking experience of my life. It will be four years next month since we lost him, and it still hurts.
I can really identify with your words, Oli, and send my condolences to your wife.  |
Written by Marybarry (237 comments posted) 14th February 2007 | I liked your poem,Talisker. It is a subject I am familiar with, in private life and in my profession.
If it is a long suffering, like that of Your wife's uncle,then death is a good friend.
His energy is free.Be happy for him. My thoughts are with you all.Patricia. |
Written by Witzl (1585 comments posted) 14th February 2007 | Life certainly can be cruel, and death can be even crueler. It doesn't seem fair that people have to go when they do or the way they do. I take comfort in seeing people who are old but still hearty and capable. They are few in number, but they inspire me. I always ask them what they eat and how they live in hopes that I will figure out how to do the same, but I suspect it's just good genes.
Good poem, Oli. I feel for Duncan and Weasel's family -- and also for Lyn. So hard to see someone who is so strong and capable suddenly brought down so fast.
Now I'm all the more determined to get out there and do some more living. Where are my dancing shoes? | less
Written by fellpony (1723 comments posted) 14th February 2007 | | is more in the case of the poem, and not so in the case of the man. Tight and clever. |
Written by Phil (6963 comments posted) 14th February 2007 | The measure of this poem's quality is that I was depressed by the time I got to the end. Thanks for that Oli. Of young middle age, thoughts of old age and all that goes with it keep haunting me at the moment, so this hit a pretty raw nerve.
Fellpony said: less is more. Too right. Good (very) stuff.
Phil. |
Written by ellipinnock (1790 comments posted) 14th February 2007 | Nothing to add. Thought this very good Oli.
Elli |
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