John Pushkarenko

May 22, 1932 – April 24, 2015

 

Our blood runs long;

A nature of connection;

From a man who fought for a country;

Proud breed and clan only a Push could know;

Now to be remembered;

As brave when weak;

Strong when alone;

Soft in a world so harsh;

A real man decorated long before his death;

A gentle bearded fun ponytailed man;

Pilsner in hand and a laugh in his belly;

After a day of good work;

With love in his heart a cruel world could never erase;

Now the heavens have you once more;

A memory that lies in the fields of this world as dust.

 

This is the first thing I thought of when I read this weeks Weekly Discover Challenge.  I wrote a poem much different than the one I have typed here for my dear Great Uncle John.  He used to live on a beautiful old family farm a few miles from the hospital he passed in.  I am so thankful I was able to spend time with him before he went, it had a way bigger impact on me than I thought it would.  The funeral was rough because of the open casket.  His beard was gone, he was gone, and he was almost morbidly handsome highly decorated by the country he loved and fought for.  I realized I really loved him.  He was always very happy to see me and my little family each and every time we arrived that old farm.  It was like stepping into an ancient lost world of hope, respect and honor.  Uncle John had many stories of his young life travelling the globe, he would tell anyone who would listen brief snippets from his past in the military.  So here is the edited better version, of a poem written for my Great Uncle John shortly after his funeral in 2015.  It was sad when he left us, in a way you could feel the heavens shifting, making more room for what was slowly becoming a whole generation of my kin.  I guess there comes a time in everyone’s life when all those that seemed so old when you were young die.  I have learned that this is the part of life none of us have any control over, a great equalizer of sorts.  Lets preserve what we can so our kids know who they are…

 

 

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