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May 2022
Dear Father

I hope you found sleep tonight
You’ve come in off the field of play
You’ve put away your sword and armour
Nothing more to say

Rest your warring mind
No need now to rage
Against the rising of the tide
The long night is upon you

The golden wheat stands ripe
As you stride through the field
Let peace run through your fingers
No need to hold so tight

Your work here is done
The battle not over
But your part played
We will carry the day
Let your tired bones rest

I wonder what gifts did you bestow
We unknowingly don lightly
Unaware your legacy is informing
Our daily lives with small moments

Little things that trip us up
All unknowingly speaking
Of a man gone but not forgotten
I hope you found sleep tonight

I shed a quite tear
Writing this in the still dark
Before the dawn light seeps
Across the rim of the world
Breaking held breathe
I hope you found sleep tonight

Are you resting quietly
In your imagined eternal night
Or delighting in the halls of your fathers
Raising a glass in silent salute
A small smile upon your face

I hope you found sleep tonight
My father died two weeks ago. Complex, difficult man, who suffered towards the end, out of his depth, away from the one he loved, unaccustomed and uncomfortable with his new life.  He particularly couldn't sleep in the final weeks, towards the end, and  commented on it like a sad lonely child. He was a logician, uncompromising academic with 5 degrees, intelligent, a successful chemical pathologist, very linear, with a black and white world view.  Not very warm and lovable for many years now, somehow got lost in his latter life. He really did rage against the dying of the light. He was an atheist, who a clear view there was no afterlife. He is of Scandinavian origin.  A distant man, closed and introverted, yet gregarious once.
Written by
Jon Arntsen  Oxford
(Oxford)   
643
   life's jump
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