An Introduction for Never Went Home Again
This “poetry book” arose from a blog postings not my web site called He Never Had Ketchup Again. The posting itself does not look like a traditional posting, it looks more like a free verse poem. Which it is. It is also a list.
Shortly after returning to work from my father’s funeral, a single thought entered my head, “he never went go home again”. The meaning behind this thought was dad went into the hospital in December of 2014 for surgery. He died in the hospital just shy of three months later, never able to see his beloved home of over 50 years again.
This thought was literally out of context from anything else I had been thinking about during the last few days. For the rest of the day similar thoughts and ideas came to me. I just kept jotting them down. Over the course of the next few days my list became very long. Finally, I broke it up into sections, food, life, family, etc. This made it a bit more manageable.
Once the list hit about 200 or more thoughts and ideas, I stopped. From there it was whittled down to the best lines and put into a bit of an order. Even then the posting was long. At that time the poetry quarter of my web site had not been to be created yet. This gave me only one avenue to post it online, create a blog posting. I enjoyed creating this posting very much. Also, it helped me with the feelings I was dealing with. Because of this, I decided to continue writing poetry. Soon afterward the poetry quarter was created. From there these “poetry books” have emerged. The first poem for this “book” was that posting converted into a poem.
The theme of this “book” has to do with the reality that once a life line is crossed, that old life, that other time is gone and one can never return. Dad’s passing marked one of those life lines. It was the biggest change in my life since marriage to Kath more than 30 years earlier. Half of my parents were now gone. A person I had known for 56 years was longer there, no longer physically in my life. He was a source of pride because of all he was able to overcome during his life. He was a guide, teller of jokes, fixer of all things broken, story teller and advice giver. Always someone to look up to.
I always knew this his passing would happen, never knowing how or when. I often wondered what kind of effect my parents' deaths would have. We all grieve in our own way and there are many parts to grieving. One part for me became writing poetry, getting the feeling and emotions out of me. Poetry became a way of talking though the pain and loss. I have a tendency to keep things bottled up inside, even though I know better. This release helped in countless ways.
I will easily admit, these poems may not be all that good, no prize winning poems may be coming from this little corner of the world. I will do my very best in writing them, but the priority is simply releasing the pent up stresses, worries and anxieties.
Thank you for your interest. Thank you for letting me indulge myself. Mostly, I thank you for sharing this journey even though I might not have been the best of company. Your companionship has meant the world to me.
Doug Thornhill (dct)