Funerals, they are a chance, for folk to say 'Goodbye',
I came to your funeral and Mum, I cannot lie.
I had to stand and listen, it made me feel real sick,
It was all about our father. I felt I'd had a kick.
You'd have thought you'd still been married, tho you'd divorced him years ago.
The look of horror on my face, was plain and it did show.
I had to turn my head away, so the Reverend wouldn't see,
That his words were really shocking. Most of all to me.
Angry, when we left the Crem, what I had to say,
To my younger brother, was taken the wrong way.
A bit of time has passed since then. Feel I've been knocked back years.
Running over, in my head, words ringing in my ears.
My brothers words when I asked him what possessed him to include Dad.
He shrugged 'What does it matter, they're all dead anyhow'.
I looked at him as if he were mad.
Of course it matters, it does to me. But my brother could not see.
And tried to change the subject fast. But Mum, now that some time has passed,
I've thought it out, the truth we know and stronger yet, I have to grow.
That day Dad destroyed what I was there to do. Mum, that was to say 'Goodbye' to you.

by Lizzy Tomlinson

Other poems of TOMLINSON (65)

Comments (2)

Funerals are for the living A celebration of life (and yes forgiving) sidi
Sad poem. Funerals can be very difficult... you made that pretty obvious. Keep Writing! Brian