Christmas Sonnet for Our Lost Father
Poem
the day before the day before Christmas on the rez and we're searching our father's face for signs of whether he's going to stay home for Christmas this year or go on yet another drinking binge to search for his father and mother who died of war and tuberculosis when our father was only six
I remember reading your incredible book, The memoir “You Don’t Have to Say You Love Me, “ and the part where your father would occasionally get cross with your mother and he would speak to her in their language and your mother would be embarrassed a bit? I hope I’m remembering that part correctly. I remember reading that and thinking about the power of language, particularly the first language a person learns, in this case your parents. And how precious that is… this is what makes me so sad. To think that those precious words are disappearing. I hope they don’t disappear entirely. I really do hope they are saved…
Oh, this must make the holidays bittersweet, and sometimes just bitter. Toast us my late husband’s birthday and I’m now a Jewish Buddhist but it’s still bittersweet! And parties to savor with friends and family. It’s a lot. I hope you and yours have a lovely celebration.