Never moved on

He tried to save his child from a sinking car,
Losing an arm in the effort,
But gaining a few last hours together,
In a dark and crowded hospital.
It was worth it,
He thought.

His wife couldn’t stand to look at him,
Even though the paramedics said no one could have saved the child,
She still despised him for not giving more.
Seeing the stump reminded her of failure,

In time they broke up,
As so many do,
Fading memories for her,
But clear ones for him.
All he had to do was look down at his empty sleeve.
And memories – good and bad – flooded back.
He cherished his stump,
It kept his memories alive,
And he knew pride in his love.

Some say he never moved on.

His friends tried to talk him into getting a plastic limb,
He couldn’t open beers on his own,
He couldn’t get a woman.
So many things would be easier.

Some say he never moved on.

Visiting his house one day,
His ex-wife,
The mother of his child,
Scoffed at the way he lived –
beer bottles everywhere.

She said he never moved on.

The day their child died,
He drove out in the rain,
Because she was too busy drinking with friends,
To pick the child up before the rain started.

She said he never moved on.

He finally managed to stay sober and get a job,
On a flight his plane went down over water.
He would have made it,
the rescue workers said,
but for that missing arm.

He never moved on.

Gerald Lee Jordan
Diamond Harbour NZ
15 February 2013