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Abstract

t was my father and mother always worried father would be hurt by those who had felled my uncle but I knew he would not be taken out by their feculent hands, had they (they tried) my fathers virtue would have purified their evil souls.I knew something greater would bring my father to his knees,I had many conversations with my father, we always had that type of bond, to his credit he taught me that loyalty is the breath of bravery and honour though difficult to adhere to, is what sustains us in those moments life tests us to make choices.When I gazed into my fathers eyes, I saw there twin flames, reflective mirrors of what I aspired to be, the same glowing embers that slumbered in my soul.“When I grow up I want to be just like you”, I’d tell him and he’d smile picking me up and tossing me on his shoulder playfully — only I wasn’t playing.“Fight father, fight you can beat this too”, again he’d smile through the pain never losing that twinkle in his eyes.I knew when the end was near, I knew because when I spoke to him of the Herd or of the court proceedings, I stood in his place for — we won, it did not matter any longer he was leaving us behind in the material world I’ve come to despise.I knew because when I looked in the mirror, my eternal smile was distorted by the saline tears a deluge that had ripped asunder my little corner of paradise.My psyche torn from my body with a force that broke it and slammed it back into what was left of me — in pieces, stolen in an eternal moment that my theological virtue or sacrifice could not endure. I broke my ties to God and God allowed me.Father was departing yet he still wiped away my tears with the unforgettabl

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e generosity of his smile.“Father, I love you, father thank you, thank you for everything, for being the greatest virtue in my life, the greatest father, thank you!”Fathers reply, stunned me I don’t know why but it has followed me around and continues to be the basis of what fuels me.“I know that you love me of this I am sure of but I want to ‘thank you’ for saying I was a good father”, even through his pain he was still holding on to his graciousness,“Not was, father, you are, you are, you are”, I repeated over and over, as onto a crazed entity, trying to pour the will of my words, champion his fight, to keep him here safe here with me, father must know I’d do anything for him…That was the last conversation I had with my father, dignified, respectful and generous till the end.But something had changed, I changed, I had to grow up without him and take up what was left of his mortal challenges, I stepped into his shoes — they did not fit but I tied the laces as tight as I could and took the path men take, I left behind everything I was schooled to be and I grew into what I’d said I wanted to be — my father.Within the attainment of that knowledge, the sunrise had lost its chromatic brilliance and the sunsets became my host, forging my road in its furnace a woman who would never be less than my father but his equal.If my village has a conscience — I slap it silly every chance I get.Thank you, Father, I am not worthy — yet. There is still the issue of God, I’m still searching for him in the many faces Death wears — I admire his honesty.Copyright ©. <a href="">R Tsambounieri Talarantas</a>. 2020. All Rights Reserved.</article></body>

Last Rites

My fathers last day’s here with us were wracked with pain and I thought and thought breaking my mind against all his life stood for,

“Why must father or any soul depart in pain, death had the upper hand he was winning the fight, so why then would he want to take his soul under such suffering. Was death another birthing canal that must be suffered through? I don’t know that — no one truly does, it’s all hearsay, stories spun on the looms of hopes undying fervor and mans arrogance to believe that we are chosen for better things in the hereafter, chosen above all innocence — death is not innocent.”

Fathers magnificence had dimmed before the cloaked assassin that held vigil by his bedside. We all knew he was there unseen with every spasm of pain that wracked fathers depleting breaths we knew he was there beside us glorifying, gaining momentum with the throes of our pain.

Death maneuvered around us his victims with stealth without remorse.

All mighty kings and queens, rich or poor, pious and naive of character must first bow to the face of vanity which death wears — prostrate before a force greater then ourselves, we are aware we cannot defeat him, know we will be vanquished but in that battle is where dignity is the thread refined that we wear in their memory in eunomia — the order of philotimo.

If my village had a conscience — it was my father and mother always worried father would be hurt by those who had felled my uncle but I knew he would not be taken out by their feculent hands, had they (they tried) my fathers virtue would have purified their evil souls.

I knew something greater would bring my father to his knees,

I had many conversations with my father, we always had that type of bond, to his credit he taught me that loyalty is the breath of bravery and honour though difficult to adhere to, is what sustains us in those moments life tests us to make choices.

When I gazed into my fathers eyes, I saw there twin flames, reflective mirrors of what I aspired to be, the same glowing embers that slumbered in my soul.

“When I grow up I want to be just like you”, I’d tell him and he’d smile picking me up and tossing me on his shoulder playfully — only I wasn’t playing.

“Fight father, fight you can beat this too”, again he’d smile through the pain never losing that twinkle in his eyes.

I knew when the end was near, I knew because when I spoke to him of the Herd or of the court proceedings, I stood in his place for — we won, it did not matter any longer he was leaving us behind in the material world I’ve come to despise.

I knew because when I looked in the mirror, my eternal smile was distorted by the saline tears a deluge that had ripped asunder my little corner of paradise.

My psyche torn from my body with a force that broke it and slammed it back into what was left of me — in pieces, stolen in an eternal moment that my theological virtue or sacrifice could not endure. I broke my ties to God and God allowed me.

Father was departing yet he still wiped away my tears with the unforgettable generosity of his smile.

“Father, I love you, father thank you, thank you for everything, for being the greatest virtue in my life, the greatest father, thank you!”

Fathers reply, stunned me I don’t know why but it has followed me around and continues to be the basis of what fuels me.

“I know that you love me of this I am sure of but I want to ‘thank you’ for saying I was a good father”, even through his pain he was still holding on to his graciousness,

“Not was, father, you are, you are, you are”, I repeated over and over, as onto a crazed entity, trying to pour the will of my words, champion his fight, to keep him here safe here with me, father must know I’d do anything for him…

That was the last conversation I had with my father, dignified, respectful and generous till the end.

But something had changed, I changed, I had to grow up without him and take up what was left of his mortal challenges, I stepped into his shoes — they did not fit but I tied the laces as tight as I could and took the path men take, I left behind everything I was schooled to be and I grew into what I’d said I wanted to be — my father.

Within the attainment of that knowledge, the sunrise had lost its chromatic brilliance and the sunsets became my host, forging my road in its furnace a woman who would never be less than my father but his equal.

If my village has a conscience — I slap it silly every chance I get.

Thank you, Father, I am not worthy — yet. There is still the issue of God, I’m still searching for him in the many faces Death wears — I admire his honesty.