Everything you say in your posts rings true to me, especially the remark about how the pain the dead father inflicted gets passed on through his son to his granddaughter. The voices move deliberately through older to younger generations. You might see this progression as a less cynical version of Philip Larkin's "This Be the Verse," which goes as follows:

They fuck you up, your mum and dad

They may not mean to, but they do.

They fill you with the faults they had

And add some extra, just for you.

But they were fucked up in their turn

By fools in old-style hats and coats,

Who half the time were soppy-stern

And half at one another's throats.

Man hands on misery to man.

It deepens like a coastal shelf

Get out as early as you can,

And don't have any kids yourself

Except that I'm glad I didn't take the advice of his last line. I now have a good relationship with my daughter (and with my first and only wife). As the poems says, "almost the end," but, fortunately, not quite.

My Family Motto: We put the fun in dysfunctional.

Greetings,

Well, no offense to Larkin but, imho, yours is the far superior poem here, to the extent these are topically comparable, and not (just) because of less cynicism either ...

And i hadn't presumed this was autobiographical although one is always tempted. The vibes you tapped into here are such universals, really, about family relations and their "blockages" ... and that haunting that comes from looking back - I never "get" people who say they have no life regrets ... It doesn't mean you let them paralyze you, but the notion of living a life with no regrets, no words wished retrieved seems like denial to me ... or else different definitions of "regret" ...

thanks for responding, Paul...

A stirring conversation.

I never "get" people who say they have no life regrets ... It doesn't mean you let them paralyze you, but the notion of living a life with no regrets, no words wished retrieved seems like denial to me

Agreed, Zinya. I'd earlier mentioned my adult sons have had a few go-rounds driving the blame bus. When focused on me, they each, in turn were precise and correct.

I had to take it on the chin. I do have regrets.

The N's mother's response in Siren was dissonant to my ear precisely because I'm familiar with regrets. According to Larkin, and judging from the responses of PoemsFray posters, and according to my own personal experience, adult kids' blame usually contains some unsavory kernel of truth.

To my thinking, folded arms and denial of culpability could hardly result in almost the end. Instead it might be a death knoll. No reconciliation seems possible when one party insists none is needed.

A fire truck followed by cop cars, all sirens blaring, just sped past my house. (I, too, live on this main street, only two blocks from the fire station.)
So little to separate us
from the one the siren is for

So little. But in the moment of crisis, so much. While I'm typing here at my desk, someone is out on a lawn in her nightgown watching fire consume her prize-winning quilts.

On that happy consideration, I close. Thanks, all, for building an edifying exchange.

"To my thinking, folded arms and denial of culpability could hardly result in almost the end. Instead it might be a death knoll. No reconciliation seems possible when one party insists none is needed."

Yes, and that was how it felt at the time. But people, given enough time, have been known to change. Some people at least.

But people, given enough time, have been known to change. Some people at least.

Agreed. This old dog has learned several important new tricks of late.