The gentle guilt comes across well, Max. And the sense of you catching
up to her in years. The opening line seems a bit stiff to me. Otherwise
I ran with it.
Bill
On Thursday, 12 May 2016, Max Richards <[log in to unmask]> wrote:
> Our Last Outing Together
>
> - Mother's and mine - we weren’t to know
> was the last. Frail, on heart pills, slow
> on her feet, she loved outings still.
>
> So slow getting out of the car!
> Now I’m that age I edge my stiff
> self out, sorry, thinking of her.
>
> For years I’d visited her less
> than a good son should, living
> with the Tasman between us -
>
> wide reason, weakest excuse.
> Travelling lost its charm for her:
> her many siblings became fewer -
>
> one more funeral trip to endure.
> Hers she thought would be the last.
> Newly widowed, she’d had one trip,
>
> with ‘Glad’ from Kaikohe, by ship -
> Panama, Southampton. Oh mother,
> you came through Customs like a
>
> shadow so soon after your husband
> my father’s funeral, and me away,
> excused, in far-off Scotland.
>
> I drove you north through rain.
> England should have thrilled you -
> I watched you for signs in vain.
>
> Soon you warmed to Scotland.
> For your sake I endured the Tattoo.
> You travelled with your old friend
>
> to the sights of Europe, one per day;
> off then with her to Panama,
> the slow Pacific Ocean, home.
>
> From then on only saw Australia,
> to be cheered up by your sister,
> and me a bit, busy in Melbourne.
>
> So when I think of you today,
> conscience reminds me how seldom
> year by year I let you see
>
> your grandson. You made do with your
> daughter’s children, missing mine.
> That last visit, on my own,
>
> I said: where shall I take you?
> Round the waterfront of course,
> and stop at Underwater World.
>
> Bright sun, the harbour dazzled
> us both, the wandering under
> water through see-through tunnels
>
> novel, thrilling at all their fish!
> young again together for a bit.
> And then? Our family’s annual wish
>
> was a pilgrimage in homage
> to the country’s saviour, founder
> of our welfare state - M. J. Savage -
>
> sadly dead in nineteen-forty.
> So to his memorial,
> renew our Labour piety,
>
> reflect on old poverty,
> later prosperity. Brilliant
> the view from Bastion Point!
>
> We failed to snap each other.
> I’m squinting now recalling
> our last bright day together, mother.
>
> [for C.R, 1903-1980]
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