you did so much for my family,
your faith never ceasing to light the way,
despite medical evidence of impeding fatality.

Those warnings about your mortality were spoken
in words that confused doctors had to eat
each time the hungry tumour weakened, and retreated,
deferring your end.

Hard though it may be
to believe that my daughter and me gave you a reason —
or that your deity gave you strength to cling to this life
for a little more time — yet I accept it as true.
I’ll never forget how you thanked us
when it was we who owed thanks to you.

I wish you could hear my good news;
I wish we could meet,
so that my daughter and me could speak
our humble words of gratitude,
but I fear it may be too late.
You ceased communicating with this ethereal web of words
at the point where her speed increased
along the road to health,
and, for selfishness’ sake, I fear what that may mean.

But for the sake of you,
may wherever you are
be the place where you wish to be,
and may the atheism my father forced into me
be cruel falsity,
at least for those of true goodness and certainty, such as you,
so that, should you finally have left this terrestial plain,
you shall be making heavenly music on a celestial piano,
accompanied by the sweet harps of angels,
while other great peacemakers
listen and appreciate,
in the high place
where you deserve to spend eternity.

Anton, you did so much for me,
for more than this crude poem can explain.
I will always think dearly of you,
and I hope that someday, somehow, we may meet again.


©Jane Paterson Basil


17 thoughts on “Anton

    1. He was. Until I met him on WP I was terribly judgemental, despite my efforts to love everyone, and despite my mother’s influence. She tried so hard to make me more accepting of those who held different political views to mine. It took Anton – a rich man, and a lifelong Conservative, to make me see how wrong I’d been.
      He wrote this on Dec. 2nd, a few weeks after being told he wouldn’t see Christmas.
      His last message to me was Feb. 3rd. He posted the next day. No news since.

      Liked by 1 person

            1. We only met on WP, but he means a lot to me. 18 months ago Laura’s future seemed hopeless; she was homeless, terifyingly thin, and in drug psychosis. The association that housed me had banned her from the building I live in, and she was doing whatever was needed to get shelter each night. Her life was hanging by a thread. I had done everything I could; there was nothing left. Anton’s absolute certainty that she would recover gave me hope, and the support I conveyed to her from him and many more of my blogging friends gradually brought her round. Without my faith in him, and his faith in God, I think I would have lost Laura.
              As well, he succeeded where even my mother’s efforts failed; he made me a more tolerant, less judgemental person. I cannot praise him highly enough.

              Liked by 2 people

      1. Yes, I know exactly what you mean. I don’t think we realize what we are stepping into… but are glad and grateful later to see the benefits. I think it is beautiful to miss someone you have not ever met. It say a lot about the beauty of our hearts, I think.

        Liked by 1 person

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