Academic journal article Antipodes
Requiem
Article excerpt
for Michael Joseph Quigley
When your duct-taped binoculars
And the dusty green corduroy cap
You bought in Ireland arrived
Smelling of your veggie patch
In a package from Australia,
Your grandson tried it on and found
It a perfect fit. His mother
Claimed the items from your car
Where they rested after use
On the last day of yout life.
His sister broke the news by email
Just minutes after his parents
Called her from the hospital
He was born in, telling her you died
Of heart failure. One day before,
You were digging in your garden.
Your son-in-law, a lapsed Catholic,
Called the priest to serve the final rites.
Your grandson would have boarded the first flight
Home if his first child wasn't due within days.
The day before you died,
When he read his dad's email
Stating you had been hospitalized,
He knew you would die
Before you could hold his child.
His wife entered the room
And found him unable to speak.
Choking back sobs, he staggered
Into the bathroom pointing dumbly
At the open message from home.
She hugged him as he sat on the toilet
And wept for the first time in seven
Years of marriage. The expatriate
Nightmare was finally upon him.
He was ten thousand miles away
When they played "Danny Boy"
And the congregation wept.
Someone else carried his corner
Of the coffin when his father,
Brother, uncles, aunt and cousin
Carried you out of St. …