James Hannon

Hey, Dad

I was mad on those Saturday nights
when you weren’t home and Mom
would drink too much and leave
the rolls too long in the oven
and start crying when Mike teased her.
She’d leave the kitchen and I’d follow her
to the living room where she’d throw
herself down on the couch to cry
some more and it was just so painful.

She had so little power and she knew it
And you knew it and Mike and I knew it.
But I knew it was wrong and you two didn’t
and I had no power to get you to see it.

Or maybe you knew and lived with the guilt
because Helen needed you and you needed her
on Saturday nights after the long week.

It wasn’t enough,
that hour alone at the end of the day,
when she would go into your office
and close the door,
the office with the big leather recliner
and the minibar that opened at four.

I understand why you wanted a second wife.
Mom was such a good Catholic
she didn’t know how babies were made
when you married after seven years of dating.

Jesus, what did you talk about all that time?
What did Ireland and the Church do to you both?

When cancer took her breasts
and threatened her life
did anyone help you?  

You had been in the war
and were a man’s man
and wouldn’t have taken
the help that wasn’t offered.

After all, you didn’t cry
when your mom died
when you were eight
because Irish men don’t cry.|
They drink and offer it up
for the souls in Purgatory.

And there’d been thirty generations
to practice suffering with no power,
and not enough food
after the times with no food
because the highly civilized landlords
took and took and gave back nothing.

Dad, you wouldn’t want to hear
about generational trauma. 
You’d say, you want sympathy? 
It’s in the dictionary
between stadium and symphony. 

You were a pretty tough guy,
but you know what?
We had it, that generational trauma,
and the alcoholism and the coverups
and the fear of getting too close
and opening the heart
because we’re sure life will break it.

I’m just glad you let me hug you near the end.

James Hannon is a psychotherapist in Massachusetts where he accompanies adolescents and adults who are recovering from addictions.  His work has appeared in Blue Lake Review, Blue River, Cold Mountain Review, Soundings East, and other journals and in Gathered: Contemporary Quaker Poets. His second collection, To My Children at Christmas, was published in 2022 by Kelsay Books.