Your January (by Amy Nocton for my father)
Now that you no longer remember anything or
anyone, who will alert us
I remember, when I was child, how you would tell me
of deaths foreseen,
of the relations you visited
before they said good-bye
to you and
You explained to me how in dreams,
of long ago nights, all
of a sudden you would know…
You would know that the moment had arrived
for one last kiss,
for one last touch of the cheek or
the hand. And, armed with your affection,
of brother, of nephew, of grandson, or
of son, you went,
almost always in a January
of a certain year,
of a certain century.
But, now, you are no longer who you were,
and you do not even have the voice to share your dreams.
So, who will prepare us when your January arrives?
DRAFT Jan. 18, 2018
I wrote this poem for my father who is suffering from early onset Alzheimer’s. When he was younger, he always dreamt about the death of his loved ones just before they died. Thus, he always managed to visit them for one last kiss or one last touch of the hand or cheek. Moreover, many of our relatives have died in January. My father, who is in his mid-seventies, became much worse in the past few months, so much so, that we were thinking this could be his last January, but now that he no longer is able to advise us that it is time to say goodbye, who will alert us that we need to visit him to bid him farewell?
4 comentarios sobre “Your January (a poem for my father)”
This poem has so much depth. When I read it for the first time, I found the ideas both intriguing and abstract. However, after reading the explanation and rereading the poem, it took on a much more serious and real tone. This second reading allowed me to pick up on and understand some of the details and figurative language that I did not think about before, especially how it all connects back to the idea of «your January» at the end. I love the honesty and art that came together to form this poem. (And I’m so sorry for the stress this must put on you, I hope your father lives for many more Januaries to come!)
Muchas gracias por tus palabras tan dulces.
Wow this poem is honestly, simply beautiful. Just like Ana, I read it twice through, along with your comment at the end, before really being able to take in its full meaning. The overall tone is sad after understanding the meaning and it’s in a way that still has a sense of hope. And that’s what I think is especially intriguing about this poem. It has such a simplicity which makes it all the better to delve into. The wording and the way you shape the question of how to prepare for “his January” is innocent in almost a child-like way and that gives off such a beautiful message because this is your father who probably always will think of you as being “his little girl”, or something of that childlike sense. (hopefully that made sense) I’m very sorry to hear of this
Muchas gracias, Dakota (y otros). Este viaje con mi padre ha sido y es sumamente difícil.