Elegy for Peter
I’m so sorry Peter.
I’m so sorry for not being strong for you;
For not being there when what you needed the most
Was a little brother who could take the strain,
And help you weather life’s capricious, confounding turn.
You were my rock.
“Peter,” they said, “a strong name for a resilient soul”,
And a firm foundation for a fine family to come.
Prideful parents, Harold and Mary, welcomed your sibling;
A boy you’d both cherish and learn from, as was the natural order back then.
A second male child,
Granted unlimited access to a world of exploration and enjoyment,
Protected from its larger demands and responsibilities thanks to a fortunate accident of birth.
A dreamer, bursting with ideas and ambitions,
And a curiosity that hinted at achievement and success.
Then, abruptly one day, around the age of eight or nine,
Reeled back in to become a replacement for the steady rock.
No more the stone that had been destined to roll.
I’m so sorry Peter.
I’m so sorry that I was too young to understand the why, or the how,
But I was old enough to realise that everything had changed,
And all the aspirations and promises had evaporated in the wink of an eye.
I was the responsible one now. No argument.
“Stiff upper lip, old chap!”
Richard Gooch
16/05/2026
