Little Lamb
By Niall Twohig
Portion of William Blake’s “The Lamb”
Dear Da,
I thought I’d write you a little letter to say, more directly, what I tried to say in these little easy essays. It’s funny; I look back at that last sentence, the pairing of your two favorite words “little” and “easy.” You would say things like “have a little bite” or “ah, look at that little budgie.” You would say things like “go easy on yourself” or “try to take it easy.” I can hear you in my mind as I write them, but I miss hearing you say them in real life. This makes me smile and cry.
These days, I use your phrases with students. I tell them to go easy on themselves. I tell them to write little essays. I tell them to listen to little birds in the trees. Little words. Little birds. As I listen to myself saying your phrases, I think I sound more caring than I actually am. In reality, I’m vile. I’m spiteful. I’m impatient. That’s what I tell myself. But there you are, in my mind, telling me that I’m more than these things, more than my bad seeds. You tell me to go easy on myself. Ah, it’s not you, Niall. These are tough times.
Let me just try to say simply what I want to tell you. You’d appreciate that.
I never anticipated feeling so close to you after your death, Da. I never anticipated feeling your love so intensely. I miss you so so much. But I know you’re still here. I know the best parts of you are alive. Still green despite the fall. I’ll pass those parts onto your little granddaughter. She’s got a fire in her. A fighting spirit. Ah, the little lamb, you’d say if you saw her line up for school today. Even when she puts on her angry face, you say the same: ah, the little lamb. Even when she can’t control her rage, you say the same: ah, the little lamb.
A few times you told me, “I’m proud of you, son.”
Well, I’m proud of you, Da. And so blessed to have you as a Da.
Death hasn’t changed the present tense of these sentences.
Keep watch over us. Keep us in your prayers.
In Love,
Your son Niall