A Sestina for Dad

A Sestina* For Dad
For Dewey Vandenberg
15 February 1953--28 October 2004


There, in the living room, my dad
sleeps under a thin sheet. A nurse from home
hospice care motions to my mom, and they speak
in low tones, both knowing it’s time
to prepare for the end of his sickness.
I’d rather forget,

but can never forget,
his graying hair or my dad’s
sunken cheeks, or the way he was sick
for years, and now he’ll never leave our home
again. As days blur together into weeks, time
passes quietly, since he can barely speak.

But this is hardly new; for years we hardly spoke
and I know he hasn’t forgotten
my harsh words to him, like the time
when I screamed and hit my dad
again and again when we left home
one day. I was so angry that he was sick.

I, too, was sick
of dealing with the sadness every time he spoke
about how he’d miss us, miss this home.
He didn’t want us to forget
about him, about our own dad--
but he understood the erosion of time.

It’s worth remembering those times
when he was still healthy, not weak or sick,
and recall the enthusiasm and delight of my dad’s
laughter and jokes. Or, when he’d speak
to us about certain childhood joys almost forgotten;
those memories reverberate on the walls of our home.

My siblings and I laugh. They’re home
and we all wait together, passing the time
with games and casseroles given to us by others, names forgotten,
who also mourned while my dad was sick.
Their quiet gifts and countless Hallmark cards spoke
volumes about the ministry and widespread influence of my dad.

But now-- now my dad is in his heavenly Home
and I speak less about those times
of his sickness, but my heart cannot forget.


B. Vandenberg
April 2009



*A sestina is a form of poetry with six stanzas and an envoy that repeat six words throughout the piece at the end of each line, in a specific order. The poetry class just learned about this today, and I was intrigued by it and decided to give it a try. I'm amazed at what truths can reveal themselves even in (because of?) a tightly controlled form.