Every June
The family
Used to gathered
Used to gathered
Into one spot.
A hundred or so
Of us.
Celebrating
The anniversary
Of our (1952) arrival
In Canada
From The Nederland.
Ranging
From toddlers
To senior citizens
To senior citizens
And every age
Inbetween.
Never
A shortage
Of eyes
To look after
The smaller children.
As various games
And activities
Were planned
For everyone.
Until
February 2, 1984.
Forever
Marking the day
The laughter died
With my opa's death.
Opa loved
To play jokes
On us
Grandchildren
And great grandchildren.
His face
Would light up
Like a Canada Day
Fireworks display
With his toothless smile.
Now
It's all faded away
Into memories.
Like the fall leaves
In a brisk October breeze
The family drifted
In its own way.
Lost
Within this grief
Was my birthday
I never had.
And
The unwanted present
Of a prolong depression
I struggle with
As a result.
Therisa © 2016
Author's note: One of the biggest lessons, I learnt, as a child growing up, surrounded around the family, and how it came first. Sadly, with opa's death (1984 )and oma's death (1996), the extended family broke down and drifted apart. Only gathering together, for deaths and weddings.
Truthfully, I never really felt comfortable, during these annual gathering, and never knew why, until now. They triggered, within me, a mild anxiety attack, with so many people, in a small space.
