Hans Gibson
May 2, 1929-December 5, 2005
So many are
gone––
Oma,
Tante Lina,
Christian &
Christiana,
my grandmother, Emily,
Uncle Ernst &
now, Hans.
For my loneliness––
they gave me the gift
of my ancestors.
For my speechlessness––
a language that sings
like childhood memories.
For my homelessness––
the love of a village.
Hans was my father &
my friend.
We had an understanding
deeper than the roots of time.
He taught me
the tools of the plumber &
the farmer––
the tools of life.
He showed me the earth
where the potatoes
grow.
He took me to the
Bierfest where a single
liter overcame me.
His jokes & his
laughter brightened my
soul.
He said, “Immer Forshung,”
because that’s what life is.
He lives in my heart
& I can never sleep without
being at peace with him.
For now, he leaves behind
the astounding work of his hands,
his glorious children,
& his beloved Analiese.