Last year I made it to 57, the age my Dad was when he died.  So now I’m in uncharted territory dad-wise, and I decided to write a poem about it:

I have crossed an invisible line
Whilst trudging up a hill, a Monroe.
I am now, right now, older than you
When you died.

An obvious target –
The lifespan of one’s father, the model
Of how long a man gets to be in this world.

It’s as far as I go –
Summiting early.

Beyond this marker, beyond the brow
Of the steep green slope
I puff on up and through.
What can I hope to see unfurled?

I’m expecting sod all –
Just another view.

You decided when to stop the clock
That now times me.
I stop to catch my breath in this thin air.
Every step now is new territory –
This my hill, these my rocks.
I bugger on at my own pace.

And at the top – what then?
I shall see something you never could:
Not just a view, not just an end
But a way down.

The small white dot of a safe haven
A town with roads, roofs, houses
And, perhaps, loved ones
Waiting for an old man
To come down the hill
Thinking of you still.
Not dead yet.