Alison Cassidy - My Feeble Response

You introduced me to Dawe*,
do you remember,
during those heady adolescent days
when life was high drama
and the parties went on all night?

And later, in the Seventies,
when you finally conceived
(at forty, just like mum)
we caught up again
over birthing and babies and breast feeding.

You'd bought the old house
in Research Road, remember
and it mattered enormously to mum
that you loved living there
just as much as she had.

She was thrilled to see the kids arrive
and the garden fill with their laughter.
You two shared such an easy rapport
as you nattered over cups of tea.

Then in Eight Four, your Jonathon fell -
your beautiful brown-eyed boy.
The school community was shocked.
They'd never dealt with tragedy before.

I couldn't imagine how you would cope -
you, who were never a confident parent,
despite being a brilliant teacher;
You, forever torn between
your rigid Catholic upbringing
and the fierce independence of your academic mind.

I didn't know what to say.
Should I ring or write?
I procrastinated for days.
I so wanted to express
the depth of my concern...
but in the end,
I offered nothing
but a 'Sorry for your loss'.

Mum had no such qualms.
She wrote in a trice
in her Charlotte's web hand
the sweetest, simplest note.
And you were touched enough to respond.

I felt so ashamed
that Mum in her dotage
could express her feelings
with such grace and honesty.
Whilst I allowed those around me
to dictate my feeble response.

I wonder how differently I'd behave
if it happened today.


*Bruce Dawe - Australian poet.

Alison Cassidy

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/my-feeble-response/