Our Father's Suit Poem by John Mackinnon

Our Father's Suit - 10/2/15

This is the suit our father loved.
His voice still echos
From its tired creases
'You know how long
I've had this suit don't you?
I bought this suit in Port Lincoln
When your Mum and I moved there,
When I took on
The Assistant Manager's job
Back in '74.
I've had this suit for over forty years...
And it still fits! '
How many times
In times since past
Did he proudly show
His inside pocket status
'Jukes & Burford - Custom Tailors
Port Lincoln'

Now it hangs
On the spare room door
Jacket, trousers
And the braces
That he wore
For all those years.
I found it almost by chance
In his old suitcase,
The one that
I'd forgotten
We packed the night he died.
He probably thought
He'd be dressed in it
When the time came.
But when the time came
He was in pyjamas
And a day shirt
In Faversham House.
Too tired to be woken
From his final sleep
To be re-dressed.
No, he would be impressed
To think,
That some deserving soul
Would benefit
From common sense.
Now, this morning
Eight months on
Before I start for work
I take the Probus pin
From his lapel
And place it
With his home guard buttons
In my room,
And keep the braces that I knew so well.
Then fold his spare pyjamas
And this suit
And pack them back in his old case
In Margaret's car.
Later she will place it
In the local Salvos bin.
As he would wish.
But when it's gone,
Will I remember
'Jukes & Burford - Custom Tailors'?
Will I recall
All that his suit
Has meant to me, to us
Without remembering his life
In little pieces thus?
So I return to the car,
Unpack his suit, and hang it
On the spare room door
To photograph
His inside pocket label
Cheekily displayed
Once more.
'I had this suit for over forty years...
And it still fits! '
And it is fitting,
That some poor living soul
Now has a use for it
And we can recall
All that it meant to him
And he to us.