Dennis Knight

Dennis Knight
Whittier, California, USA
December 31
I'm the typist of those little labels you find in the pockets of your new trousers.
I own several ant farms, but the little fellas haven't produced a single crop.


OCTOBER 28, 2008 5:18PM

The Passing

Rate: 10 Flag

In the still moments before you passed
That late fall afternoon
I could feel you preparing to leave me
I looked upon your face
And a thousand memories flashed through my mind

I “saw” your smile
Waking me
First thing in the morning
I saw your stern seriousness
Warning me of an ill chosen path
But most of all I saw your eyes
Loving me
All my life
Until that day

I touched your hand
Still slightly warm with life
But chilling with the cold of approaching death
Its familiar landscape of veins and strong fingers
Causing me to relive
All of the feelings of security and strength
Your hands had offered me through the years

I wanted so badly for you to stay
I hated the thought that you would be gone
That I would no longer be able to talk to you
Hold you
Hug you
Tell you I loved you
Smell the “you” in your shirts
Ask you the questions
That I only felt safe
Asking you

But most of all I didn’t want to live in a world
That you weren’t in
I didn’t want to wake up without knowing I could see you
Hear your voice
Feel your presence
Endure all those irritating habits you had
Which I now would give anything
To “endure” just once more

I miss you so much
I miss you more than any human being I have ever known
And loved
And “lost”
I miss you so much that a decade has passed
And it still seems like yesterday
That you were gone

But your passing has taught me something incredibly precious
A thing of inestimable worth

I now desire to live without regret
Without wishing
Without wondering
What might have been
If I had done what I really wanted to do
Had said what I really longed to say
Had given what I really felt moved to give

You exhaled that one last long final breath
And you left
I knew it
I felt it
And in that moment
Everything that might have been
Or could have been
Or should have been
Ceased to exist
The books were closed
Not one more word could be spoken
Not one more deed could be offered in love
For you to hear or feel
Coming from my heart

And I learned...

We must love all we can
While we can
Because we can
If we are wise

For the passing of those we love
Comes to us all
And while attempting to live without regrets may be hard
Living with them is infinitely harder

If you’ve missed the golden opportunities
With loved ones who have passed
Don’t punish yourself one moment longer
For those things you cannot change
Instead let them fuel your most righteous instincts
And energize your most loving and giving motivations

Do all you can do and more
To tell those you love
And to show those you love
That you do love them
While each of you is still alive

Let your deepest most sorrowful loss
Become incentive for the gain of countless others
Build a memorial to those you wished you had loved more
By loving those you can
While you can

Love them all
With all
The love in your heart

Author tags:

love, hope, regret, death

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This is so beautiful and to the heart of grief. I lost my mother ten years ago, and my sister just a few years ago, and this poem speaks so eloquently to loss and its lessons. I miss them both every day - even this morning thinking how poignant this loss remains, and how it won't be fading. Thanks, Dennis, for some reminders that I needed this very day.

Thank you for all you shared. Loss of loved ones can be one of the greatest challenges life hands to us. The closer the loved one is to us the more the world seems to change the day they pass on.

I’m very sorry for your loss. My hope is that our losses will teach us how to redeem the time we have with those we love while we have the opportunity. It’s really one of the more precious ways we can honor the memory of those who have already passed.
It's some good advice, Dennis. It's a lesson everyone should pay attention to but most don't until it is to late. I watched my father take his last breath and never, not one time in our time together told him I loved him, (and neither did he.) I beat myself up for years about it.

The last time I saw my mother, she was mad at me.. Then she died 5 days after my birthday, (12 years later I'm still working that one out.)

So now I never go to sleep angry with my wife, I always kiss her goodnight.. I always tell her I love her. Can't take another chance, don't you know?

Thanks for the poem, it's appreciated.
That is beautiful, both it's expression of loving and losing a loved one and also it's deep , underlying reflection of life, past and present. Bravo! This is the writing from heart and soul that defines you. More, more, more!!!
Reading this is almost impossible, it is so heart felt and painful, so close to the actual feelings I have felt and hope not to feel again for a very, very long time. But I so appreciate the point of it, the fruit of the grief that you obviously allowed to take place in your life. If only, huh? But loving those I can while I can, all of them, with all the love in my heart, starts here, obviously, with me. So thanks for a very serious, very real and beautifully written reminder.
A truly beautiful poem, Dennis.
Thank you for sharing it.

Dennis...please tell me when you post if you get the chance. I almost missed this. I am so sorry you lost someone you love so much, and this poem is an incredible and moving heartfelt and hits deep to the core of your heart. Thank you for sharing.
Dennis, I was just writing in comments on CoyoteOldStyle's Charlie's Story Begins that OS should really have a poetry list that shows up from time to time on the front page to capture things like this. Of course, people should have a standard keyword like poetry or poem that they can label things to make them easier to find. It's sort of incomparable to all the politics discussion, yet just as important, and ought not get lost in the noise.
Dennis, I am so sorry for your loss. This was a beautiful tribute to her and a help to all of us. You beautifully put into words the feelings we experience when we lose someone close and the emotions we try to hide somewhere to make it easier. I couldn't respond to your poem for several days it really tugged at me with memories and sadness. In Joyce's book The Dead, when her husband thinks to himself in the last chapter, to love someone that much". You were given a special gift. Thank you for sharing something so precious.
Dennis, I'm sorry I missed this when it was posted. It so captures things that I'm familiar with, and writing about today. I send you comfort and peace.
Best thing about this site? Somebody you haven't seen comments on your page, you go to theirs and find something this powerful.

Thanks for this.