Tag Archives: Dad

The Times he Cheated Death

As a baby, birthweight three pounds.
Swaddled in cotton wool, wrapped in tinfoil
tucked up by the steaming kettle
his mother bringing both twins to ruddy health.

In the Coventry bombing, a taxi driver sped
Mother and sons out of town, to sleep among trees.
They returned next morning, found their father
weeping by the flattened house.

That time he nearly didn’t come back
the anaesthetic would not release him
and his twin collapsed on the Parade Ground
could not be roused.

Fighting back from the unfathomable stroke
that took his right side and so his running
his special joy yet also
gave him his art back

The final summer, pneumonias repeated pulmonary attacks
when he saw new dawns after doctors had given him up.
Suddenly to be gone, after an evening laughing with my little boys.
Grandsons who barely remember him now.

After Amanda Topping

Copyright © 2020 Kim Whysall-Hammond

A poem about my Dad, Trevor Whysall.


Dad was a twin, so identical
they were still mistaken for each other
into late middle age.
Which was always funny.

Dad was a runner,
running for sheer joy
so gracefully.
Keeping that joy into old age.

Dad was an artist,
an art school graduate who
gave it up to feed his family.
Only after his stroke did he paint once more.

Dad was a gardener,
after work  checking his beloved tomatoes
before he saw his wife and children.
“But they’re my tomatoes.” he would say – and we forgave him.

Dad loved the outdoors,
walking children and grandchildren across fields
to watch rabbits and deer.

Dad was a friend to all,
and interested in everything
“Who is Dad talking to now” we would cry.

We lost him at at a stately home,
found him and Lord Bath discussing crockery
in the formal dining room.

Dad was a family man,
He loved his wife, children, grandchildren so much.
Everyone who met him found a new friend.

We will watch his grandchildren grow
Who is the runner? Who the artist? Who is the friend?
May they all be as kind.

And we will all remember his smile.

Copyright © 2019 Kim Whysall-Hammond

For Trevor William Whysall, 1930 – 2005

This was my eulogy at Dad’s funeral in 2005. His grandchildren are all mostly grown up now. Art, sports, love and kindness feature largely in each of their lives. I am proud of them all. He would be too.