In 1980, my dad became ill with a rare disease called polymyositis. He was very weak and was in the hospital for a long time, several months actually. He was in his late 60’s at that time and had retired from his job at Ingersoll-Rand. Although he slowly improved, he was diagnosed with lung cancer in 1984. One of the things that he talked about a lot was the old home place in Davidson County, and he asked me to take him there. At age 43, I did not really understand why he wanted to do that, but I took him. My son, who was five at that time, went with us.
After Daddy’s death in March of 1985, I woke up in the middle of the night sometime after that, and the words to the following poem just came to me. I know it sounds strange, but it is absolutely true. It was the first piece that I had ever written that was not for school, but now since I have been writing a lot for the last few years. I really believe that God put those words in my mind, knowing that it was just the beginning. I thank Him for that.
Going Home
Linda Barnette
In his last days, my daddy asked me to take him home
Across the Yadkin, down the narrow road canopied by rows of trees
To the big house on the river’s bluff.
Bent and slowed by age and illness, holding the hand of my little son,
He walked up the long driveway where carriages used to park
Then to the stone trough where horses used to drink,
Up the sloping yard where in the days of his youth
Tables full of food were spread upon the lawn,
Where children played and old people remembered,
Finally to the porch of his ancestral home
Once gracious and inviting, but
Now old and neglected, long empty of the people who loved it.
We left the house and went to Sandy Creek so he could say hello and goodbye
To those who had gone before him, whom he loved and would soon see again.
On that day long ago I did not understand the urgency of that visit,
But now that I am older, I realize that the past,
Home, the hallowed ground of his people
Called to him to say goodbye before he went home for good.