My Father the Chemist

 

My Father the Chemist

“Difference is the ionic bond of marriage”
said my father. Yes, he’d talk that way.
He meant disagreements, anger,
the electrostatic attraction
of oppositely charged ions.

Mom belted out I don’t wanna play in your yard
or fingered a delicate Moonlight Sonata
while Dad couldn’t sing Happy Birthday
except monotone. Deaf to music.

She died.
He conducted research in blood clotting chemistry
so when his transient ischemic attacks began
he understood perfectly.
Told no one.

After, I found lab notes, self-observation
he’d jotted on a yellow pad with shaky hand:
TIA # 4 Date: 09/09/75 Time: 17:45
Music: — / / ... / / — ... / / —

Near death came music
which he scribbled as dashes and slashes and dots.
Then no scribbles for the fifth and final attack
but that night as he died alone in his bed
by moonlight surely she sang
Welcome, come play in my yard
and he heard, pulled to her bond.

…..

First published in Allegro. Thank you Sally Long, editor
Note: The photo is from the 1930s, my father as a young man in a lab long before I came onto the planet. 'I don't want to play in your yard' was a popular song in sheet music written by Henry W Petrie and Philip Wingate.