Dad the clock's stopped!

how memories can be triggered

‘Dad - the clock’s stopped’

 

tick … tick … tick … tick

 

on my side

curled, foetal

warm,

sheet, two blankets, quilt

feet toasting

hot water bottle

grandma’s blue knitted cover

 

tick … tick … tick … tick

 

familiar furniture

dark shapes in the sliver of light

sneaking under the living room door

in the corner the glass fronted bookcase

with the pop up story books

 

 tick … tick … tick … tick

 

I can’t sleep

The ticking of Grandad’s old American wall clock

keeps me awake, conducting my thoughts

I try closing my eyes

I still can’t sleep

dad says - ‘you think too much!’

 

tick … tick … tick … tick

 

I know I’m not at home

smells are different

Grandad’s pipe, the coal tar soap

smoke from the coal fire,

smell of gas lights

muffled sound of grandma and grandad

playing rummy with mum and dad

radio on the home programme

murmuring in the background

 

tick … tick … tick … tick

 

beside me the even breath

of my brother easily asleep

my mind drifts

who will I be?

what will I do?

 

tick … tick … tick … tick …

 

the clock stops " I shout

‘dad the clock’s stopped!’

 

the room is warm, too warm

it’s hard to focus

did I fall asleep?

The clock ticks again - my heart beat?

murmuring voices

not making sense

back to my thoughts

our annual stay with grandma and grandad

I remember each detail

the tiny bathroom

the fold down sink over the bath

the coal cellar next to the tiny scullery

our daily trip to the baths

 

tick … tick … tick … tick  …  beep. beep. beep ……..

 

the clock has stopped

a shrill alarm sounds

familiar voices, panic, running feet

my son, my daughter, my wife

‘nurse! doctor!’, they shout

the monitor has stopped

my eyes, unblinking, still see

my ears still hear

‘he’s gone’ my son cries

‘I’m still here!’

my reply -  unspoken

‘don’t go!, don’t go!’ -  my wife’s voice

 

I see her face, blurring

feel her tears, wet my cheeks

feel a kiss

 

I’m desperately trying to hold on

there’s something I need to say

my fingers are slipping on the edge

as the darkness comes

I manage to get it out

but no-one hears

 

‘Dad - the clock’s stopped’

tussur

Reviews

[emmajoy]

It only needs a moment: a wafted touch, a near silent sigh, or.. something missing that should be there bold as brass, as near life's blood but absent. Silence echoes.. bounces through space or fall from a cold height when something occurs that.. is different, invisible yet.. Accepting that is neither gift nor punishment yet remains.. For what? A sadness with great meaning and - a myriad of memories for the writer..

[alanwgraham]

Great Emma, you've got it perfectly.
Take care,
Alan

[Richard M]

An excellent write Alan and a great bending of two stories, two thoughts. My condolences to you and family. Brings back similar memories of my own. I really like this piece. Thank you for sharing.
Richard

[alanwgraham]

Thanks Richard for digging deep to find this old poem. I feel quite attached to this as it has many memories from my childhood.
Regards,
Alan

[Kathy Van Kurin]

'Dad the clock's stopped'
alangraham,
This is a puzzling but lovely thing to read. First I just took it at face value
as a story of memories of many visits to your grandparents. I see toward
the end it cycles into the panic of a great trial within the family dynamic.
'I see her face, blurring
feel her tears, wet my cheeks
feel a kiss'
This feels like someone saying goodbye to you.
Then
'I'm desperately trying to hold on
there's something I need to say
my fingers are slipping on the edge
as the darkness comes
I manage to get it out
but no one's there.
Dad- the clock's stopped'
Was this the writer which leaves this world or the grandpa?
I remember my grandparents too and some of your images and memories
brought the warmth of their presence back. Thanks for your wonderful
way of portraying a story. Refreshing for sure.
Blessings,
Kathy

[alanwgraham]

Thanks for searching this out. The subject (first person -all my memories) is in intensive care. The beep of the heart machine triggers memories of grandparents visits and their clock. At the end the memories morph into impending death. The clock (heart) stops.
I appreciate your thoughtful questions here Kathy. It is quite an emotional roller coaster!
Take care.
Alan

[Kathy Van Kurin]

Alan,
Yes I can see the emotion portrayed in this write of yours. You did relay eneough desriptive elements to understand connection with beep of machine and so forth. First person too. Yea.I really enjoyed reading it! Thanks for the explanations. Truly. Kathy

[alanwgraham]

Thanks Kathy. I'm aware that I often write in the first person which in this case will cause confusion. The memories are none but I'm obviously not dead.
Regards.
Alan

[Lorry]

Spooky biscuits Alan. My Grandpa was the one who told me a story of how “That clock will only stop when I do.” I don’t know if this is part of every kids growing up, but I grew up thinking clocks stopping meant death too. He even threw in a wink after saying it, leaving me thoroughly confused as to whether it was a joke or I had been privy to secret information.
Needless to say, we were on holiday when he passed and I never did find out who took his clock.
Coal tar soap was completely forgotten from mind until you mentioned, then it came back to me in nauseating clarity 
Absolutely brilliant piece.

[alanwgraham]

Ta lorry. It's sad how you forget these things until some trigger brings them back.
Cheersread moreTa lorry. It's sad how you forget these things until some trigger brings them back.
Cheers
alan

[Lorry]

You are most welcome.

[alanwgraham]

I must just say I didn't write that bit at the end - writemore. There is some weird stuff happens.read moreI must just say I didn't write that bit at the end - writemore. There is some weird stuff happens.
Alan

[Duncan Brown]

Vote vote vote vote vote vote...................

[alanwgraham]

I am going to commune with my friend sluggy stardust

[Duncan Brown]

Was was was was was was was.........................

[alanwgraham]

Thank. I can see that you've caught the gist of this one. I'm still alive and 'ticking' but the bell tolls for us all. It is slightly worrying for me that I actually made some sense of your comment this time!
Alan

[Tabby Mac]

Very well done! I enjoyed the similarities to my own memories of my grandparents. I loved the transition at the end. As well as the last line! Amazing work! Thank you for sharing! Tabby

[alanwgraham]

Thanks Tabby. Memories of a ticking clock seem to be a common feature of these recollections.
Regards alan

[Ted Kniffen]

This is a great poem Alan. So many of the memories at the beginning coincide with mine, that it was almost as though you got into my mind to read my thoughts. Good write.
Ted

[alanwgraham]

Thanks Ted. It can be a real mixture of emotions writing and reading these personal bits of writing.
Regards,
Alan

[Mary]

Forgot to rate this, 100. Saving

[Mary]

Alan, the tick tick of the clock providing the background for childhood memories of a dying man, tick tick evolving into beep beep of the heart monitor. Drawn in completely! Well done!

[alanwgraham]

Thanks very much Mary - I still have very clear memories of my grandparents house
Alan