One Less

    I wrote a poem called "One Less" for Father's Day. Though I was thinking of my own father-in-law's recent passing, I posted it on Facebook because many . . .most of my friends have lost their fathers. Whether a father was wonderful or a work in progress, his death leaves a hole that cannot be filled by anyone else. The other reason I wrote it is because a poem really helped me when my mother died. From the moment I heard it in a college poetry class, it reminded me of my mom. We adapted this poem by William Wordsworth to share at Mom's funeral.

      She Dwelt Among The Untrodden Ways

She dwelt among the untrodden ways

Beside the springs of Dove,

A Maid whom there were none to praise

And very few to love:

A violet by a mossy stone

Half hidden from the eye!

—Fair as a star, when only one

Is shining in the sky.

She lived unknown, and few could know

When Lucy ceased to be;

But she is in her grave, and, oh,

The difference to me!


     For me the untrodden way was Mom's mental illness. Few knew her because she was afraid to leave the house. Mom's name was Violet, and we used that, instead of Lucy for the funeral. Violet, quiet and shy as the half hidden one in the second stanza had been, if not beautiful, certainly fair to look at. But the last line of the poem is what spoke to me the most. Her death would not necessarily be sorrowful, certainly not more than her life was, but it would make a difference to me. And it did. So when I thought about Mom's death, I would remember this poem, and it comforted me.
     My hope is that, because of its brevity and rhyme pattern, my poem will comfort those grieving their husbands and fathers.

One Less

One less father in the world

one more husband gone.

One less good man walks the earth.

One more family mourns.

One would think that just one less

is not too great a loss,

but no one else can take your place.

This emptiness—love’s cost.

Father’s Day 6/20/20