"Neurasthenia"
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"Neurasthenia"
My father raised us responsibly;
As great threads of gray swept through his rich waves of mahogany.
And he also worked as a salesman, so I safely acknowledged he
lied for a living and this was why he hated dishonesty.
His way was the common theme.
But this dictatorship remained a hit due to his smiling face of authority.
He wages on comically, playful and folly free,
While saving a stolid beam for the occasional modesty.
Pops was as neat and organised as any page from a glossary.
While my brother and me would disagree while playing Monopoly,
and David would often leave to create a cacophony.
Heaven knows our Father must have had all the patience of Socrates.
After a stern talk from dad -
I was more ‘forced’ than ‘asked’ to make an apology.
While David was scooped up and placed on his knobbled knee.
Spluttering threats under my breath, I laid the table with crockery,
“Dad,” David sniffled, before I heard him say -
“Why did mommy leave?”
The atmosphere in the room grew so tense,
I prayed someone would hand me a knife.
As his candid, refined Cheshire grin became sadly resigned.
Before his so called stone-jawed expression was cracked and he sighed.
I sat at his side,
And he frantically tried to explain what had happened and why.
It didn’t make him any less of a man in my eyes,
to stand there and cry.
Because since her departure over a week ago, we’d been a family divided.
Standing in silence as empty tears traversed his great frown,
There was an upsurge of raised brows at the words that came out,
as his lips trembled “Your mother’s had a nervous breakdown,”
I reared up from his beer gut with a sneer but
my austere look was a mere bluff
to mask the disbelief which had sphered up in my tearducts.
It appeared such a clear-cut thing when dad had said she'd gone away,
So what was grating at me,
Wasn't that he made us believe she was on her holidays,
Nor the ensconsed distain which dislodged the pain,
But that he'd lied to me.
To us.
To himself on the odd occasion.
And because of his jejune job where the selfish fool
delved into whichever velvet ruse would sell to you,
Me and my brother held the view we should always tell the truth
When infact, honesty was a welcomed tool he seldom used.
I felt dispelled, deluded, cozen and course
as I spent a moment marauded in total discord with the sobering thought
that the grown man's tears he so nobly fought back
were the coldest I'd caught.
His eyes opened once more.
The pain etched within stretched the skin on his weathered face,
But given his present state,
And the wisdom he'd resonate,
I knew lying to his children was the hardest decision he'd ever made.
Yet even with his troubles part-considered,
I grew sullen, dark, and bitter.
And felt I'd lost the trusting father figure I'd loved with heart and vigour.
I felt crushed with hardened rigor.
But this huge hysteria soon deteriorated and grew inferior,
When I thought of the Mother I loved, being claimed to her Neurasthenia.
And I'll never get used to seeing her reclined in that chair,
When all that remains of the woman I knew, are the eyes that we share.
The pride isn't there.
Inside it's unbearable, but I hide it with care.
Yet since it happened I feel closer than we had been before,
Because I too have no real sense of who I am anymore.
My mood's altered by drugs,
The difference of course is you're administered yours -
While we'll both sit in our rooms 'til feeding time or a visitor calls.
So I'm glad when you'll send me letters,
to write back and pretend you're better.
But most of all i'm just thankful for the time we manage to spend together.
Get well soon Mom,
I'll love you always.
x X x
We never had much in the way of duckets or change, just the occasional pudding made for our cousins who stayed a couple of days. When our cupboard’s contained less than Old Mother Hubbard’s, lets say. But you would never hear our Mother complain! No matter how often we struggled to pay the bills, or budget, and save. No matter how often, or emphatically, she tried to juggle her day. No matter how hard she’d just worked to serve a hot meal up on our plates, you would never hear our Mother complain. Not even through the ruction we made! But maybe us being so dysfunctional gave us that strong, solid, structural base. That sense of family values and well-being you just couldn’t replace. And when you have nothing to lose, you start looking to gain. This is how me and my brothers were raised. We were told to go for the jugular vein, to give back as good as they gave, but that good things come to those who have the gumption to wait. Sure there will be punishing days, where you’ll have taken just as much as you’ll take. Where you’ll feel like a blundering great lummox that makes a hundred mistakes. But these testing times are where Mother’s are humbly made! In our multiple roles as a chauffeur, a housewife, a cook and a slave. And you’ll stumble or stray asunder some days under the strain. But you’ll do anything to see a smile on that childs wonderful face, no matter how laborious the task or how long that it takes. This is a full-time job with no time to be squandered on breaks, and could even result in you taking a cut in your pay. Sometimes it’s all too easy to shovel the blame, but these testing times are where Mother’s are humbly made, and so I’m asking, if the roles were reversed – Could a man really stomach the same!? I doubt it.
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