Dad, You're Gone
It was Monday, January 19, 1998. As usual, I had left home early
to avoid the traffic jams on the southern motorway.
Arriving at my office in the Montparnasse Tower around 7:30 a.m., my phone rang.
My mother, in tears, told me that Dad had died in his sleep.
Meeting my boss in the tower's reception hall,
I informed him of my departure to Ariège to organize the funeral.
Boarding the first plane of the Orly/Toulouse shuttle,
I was greeted upon my arrival in Blagnac by a family friend, Léon Loubet,
the mayor of the village, who acted as my taxi driver.
During the funeral in the small communal cemetery, we took turns paying our poignant tributes.
Dad, you knew my taste for writing.
I can't let you go without saying a last word,
without frills or embellishments.
In this funeral that we wanted to be civil,
in the company of our loved ones who have joined us,
I honor your departure draped in the tricolor sash
of my term as Deputy Mayor.
The pain that grips me may make it difficult for me to speak.
But I prepared this last interview
with you yesterday on the plane.
Born in 1913, you were lucky enough to live to 85 years,
despite the horrors of two wars
and their bloody battles.
Not everything in your life was rosy
as it was for everyone of your generation.
With tenacity, you managed to work hard in your studies
to get a good job, you chose the Civil Service.
Leaving Carcassonne where you walked the streets of the city at the age
of twenty as a peddler.
At the end of the 1930s, you chose a small corner
of Ariège to practice your trade as a Postman-Courier.
In Tourtouse, you became familiar with Ariège hospitality
and the harsh climate.
At the end of the war, after a short trip, you settled
in Les Bordes-sur-Arize, single.
During your bicycle tours, you met
Lili the peasant woman in Les Bourretx.
In June 1947, you married her. That summer, it was a pleasure
to celebrate your golden wedding anniversary in the Couserans.
You devoted your life, Dad, to the postal service for your professional life,
selflessly,
to trout fishing and woodcock hunting
for your two passions,
but also and above all to raising a boy
who caused you some trouble, a real rascal.
On the eve of my 49th birthday, I wanted to thank you, Dad,
for giving me a good education.
I had a hectic and happy youth,
but it also caused you some hardship.
You allowed me to pursue higher education
at the cost of many sacrifices.
Today, Dad, thanks to you and Mom,
I enjoy a very good situation.
For twenty-five years, you followed my career in banking
and I know you admired me.
We celebrated the New Year together,
happy and joyful, your health had improved.
Last Thursday, your doctors, by giving you
an appointment in June, had reassured you.
But yesterday, while listening to the morning news,
in your bed, the clock of your life stopped.
A life of 85 full years, hard during
your childhood, but also during and after the war, when your father was deprived of it.
You will provide for your family,
your little brother could testify to that.
Then you worked your way through the service of the population
bringing good and bad news.
You talked with everyone, Dad,
you always loved life with passion.
Since your retirement, you shared friendly gatherings and outings with the Elders
of Montesquieu-Volvestre.
You've often had to deal with medicine.
Lately, your battery has been stimulating your heart on call,
allowing it to beat longer,
but yesterday the flame of life went out.
Today, Dad, we are with you,
your daughter-in-law and your dear Lili,
Your grandchildren in spirit, who are prevented by their studies,
as well as all your family and friends.
We all bid you farewell together.
As for me, Dad, I send you a big kiss.
Guy PUJOL says l’ARIÉ…..JOIE