My father

My footsteps

Owl-humming at night

Cypress whispers to each other

A white stone is being worked by a marble maker

The traditional sky breaks once every night

The trembling of the black wings sent by him filled the houses

Our stove marked sickle

In the harvest season

I always loved the land with the trees

The trees are green

So what is this green cover?

Wandering around in my mortgage life

Hold my hand, Dad

Don’t leave me

Don’t let the sky fall on me

You are my only pillar

Don’t forget it

Yes, I told my dad, “I’m on a pillar.” “Don’t leave me,” I said every night. Day and night cut in despair. Which prints the strings above me. But what happened?

Left.

The sky fell on me. He’s gone like the only man I’ve ever known. Far away I wrote this in my previous post. Since the title deed belongs to my mother’s family, although all my mother’s relatives were buried in our cemetery opposite our house, my father, his wife, did not accept. It was located in a cemetery a short distance away. Everything should not be so sharp. Humanity is no more.

We felt the same way when we were taken to the hospital. “There is no place,” they said. “We will take him to the intensive care unit of a private hospital.” When you say private hospital, I thought it would be better cared for. The driver of the taxi I took for a five-minute ride said, “Anyone who gets in there will be alive. Why did you leave him there?” When he said this, I took out the wolf that had fallen into me, according to his doctor, whom I had met that day, “We will get it out in a day or two.” My dad was shivering as I left. “Measure your sugar, it’s obviously gone,” I said. When I got the answer from the nurse, “I measured at 1 o’clock,” I said, “I was measuring every two hours at home, measure it,” and noticed that the sugar had dropped. “Call the nurse when you’re not feeling well,” I told my dad as we left. “Of course,” he winked at her, as I was leaving at 3 o’clock. At 8 pm, the phone rang, “Your father is dead.

Although I was at home, we had a babysitter for the last four months. Because he was weak but my father was dependent on the bed, it was difficult for me to meet some of his needs by removing him. I was shocked to get the news. Our caretaker was a big Uzbek woman. You know, the woman who couldn’t take her father, how I hugged that baby, how I beat her on the chest, how I pushed her from right to left, I am still amazed at the sadness. How hard, how hard! They say he will be out in two or three days, the news of his death comes in the evening. His sugar definitely dropped and they didn’t look at my dad. Private hospitals received from the state. Employees were so upset with their lives that they even took my father out of his life.

My father did not deserve such a death. My dad, who has served the state for so many years, has built a house with cement on his back with everything he grew up with, and he doesn’t know what a vacation in his life is because he will save money.

Everything in this life is zero. I cried over the articles I wrote about my dad, but when I write this article, I can’t see what I wrote.

I have a poem, I will end with that. I think those who have read it think it is a love poem. This is actually a love poem. A poem of my love for my father that I wrote while waiting for the news from him on the bench of the state hospital where he had three consecutive heart attacks and was taken to the intensive care unit.

Let’s mix our names first
Let your name be my name
If my name is your name
And then
Let’s be each other’s street kids
Let’s not look at our empty stomachs
Until our love is fulfilled

Let’s pay each other
Two times two equals four sharp
You will come out my equal love truth

pluses let us handcuff
Yogurt loves me
Without missing
Long years our love is divided

Yes, I said for many years. All I wanted at that moment was to spend many years with my father’s love. Unfortunately it took three years. I want everyone in this poem to spend many years with their father, with love. I wish God’s mercy for our fathers who are not alive but alive in our hearts. Give them peace of mind.

Ceyda Sevgi Unal

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