The End Of Ernie Lowe Poem by David Lewis Paget

The rain dripped down on my overcoat
As I walked beneath the trees,
An avenue filled with poplars, grim,
And dark, with an icy breeze,
I'd walked this way a million times
As a child, and a younger man,
But this could well be the final time
As I went to hold his hand!

I'd always called him Uncle Ern
From a time that I don't know when,
He'd carried me on his shoulders since
I was just a squalling bairn,
He'd kicked a ball in the park with me,
Was there to fly a kite,
But now that big, old generous man
Had come to his own midnight!

Ern was the one to church me, he'd
Done more than my parents would,
He took me along to evensong
And sang, as best as he could,
He had a rumbling baritone
That rattled the wooden pews,
And smiled at me in the choir there
As the vicar collected the dues.

I grew at length, but I sought him out
Whenever I'd need advice,
He'd say: ‘I'll give you a tip or two,
But I'm not going to tell you twice! '
Then he'd laugh, a raucous, bubbling sound
That would put my fears to rest,
And we'd share a pint at the ‘King and Crown',
And I knew I was more than blessed.

But life went on and I lost my faith
In the light of discovery,
For science placed the world of the Lord
Beyond recovery,
Though I never said a word to him,
For his faith was strong and sure,
And I would do nothing to hurt him now
That his years came up, four score!

I rapped on the wooden panels of
The door with the painted shell,
And shortly a nurse had let me in,
She muttered: ‘It's just as well!
He's called for you for an hour or so,
There won't be too long to wait,
The cancer's eating his very heart
And his mind's in a terrible state.'

He lay, propped up on a pillow there,
I felt a tear at my eye,
He waved his hand: ‘Don't worry lad,
I don't want to see you cry!
This is only the first goodbye,
I'll see you again, no fear,
When your time is up from this empty cup
I'll be waiting for you, there! '

I thought: ‘You're fooling yourself, old man! '
But stood, and I bit my tongue,
All that we face is the darkness once
This life that we know has gone!
But he seemed happy, and mentioned Grace,
His wife of so long ago,
‘I'd forgo heaven to see her face,
I would, ' said Ernie Lowe.

I shook my head; she'd been gone so long
That I'd never seen her face,
But here in his final moments, all
Of his thoughts had turned to Grace.
Then like some shadowed and ghostly form
A woman was there, at his bed,
Who whispered: ‘Ernie, it's time to go! '
…..When I looked again, he was dead!

14 July 2012