Tag Archives: My Father in the Rain

ROBERT HOEKMAN JR.: My Father in the Rain (My Father in the Rain, pt. 5)

November 22, 2019Artistic, Submissions, Touchingfamily, father, My Father in the Rain, Robert Hoekman Jr., series, sonTim

At the cemetery, I look at my father in his dark suit and dark shoes and I see a drop of water on his cheek and I think it might be a tear. But then I think no, it’s only the rain. And then it rains and rains and rains.

Robert Hoekman Jr thinks you die when you stop wanting. He writes and writes and writes. He lives on a farm in Virginia and refuses to be put into a box. See more at rhjr.net.

ROBERT HOEKMAN JR.: And There Were Tears on the Floor (My Father in the Rain, pt. 4)

November 21, 2019Artistic, Submissions, Touchingfamily, father, My Father in the Rain, Robert Hoekman Jr., series, sonTim

No one cries but Grandma. She cries at the wake after, in the church basement next to the table with the sheet cake. I tell her hang in there, Grandma, because I don’t know what I’m supposed to say. Then I go into the bathroom and stand inside the stall.

Robert Hoekman Jr thinks you die when you stop wanting. He writes and writes and writes. He lives on a farm in Virginia and refuses to be put into a box. See more at rhjr.net.

ROBERT HOEKMAN JR.: See How Much It Weighs (My Father in the Rain, pt. 3)

November 20, 2019Artistic, Submissions, Touchingfamily, father, My Father in the Rain, Robert Hoekman Jr., series, sonTim

When someone can’t show up, my uncle asks me to be a pall bearer. I carry Grandpa to the ground with five men I don’t know. Grandpa who used to snatch my nose with his thick mechanic fingers. Grandpa whose skin is like rubber. I carry him to the ground.

Robert Hoekman Jr thinks you die when you stop wanting. He writes and writes and writes. He lives on a farm in Virginia and refuses to be put into a box. See more at rhjr.net.

ROBERT HOEKMAN JR.: We All Walk the Same (My Father in the Rain, pt. 2)

November 19, 2019Artistic, Submissions, Touchingfamily, father, My Father in the Rain, Robert Hoekman Jr., series, sonTim

We take a plane to Des Moines. My uncles and cousins and my aunt are there and everyone wears suits and black dresses in the town where Grandpa was born, where the sidewalks are gray and crumbling, where the names on the headstones sound like mine. Like his. Like ours.

Robert Hoekman Jr thinks you die when you stop wanting. He writes and writes and writes. He lives on a farm in Virginia and refuses to be put into a box. See more at rhjr.net.

ROBERT HOEKMAN JR.: Worn and Lost Like a Son (My Father in the Rain, pt. 1)

November 18, 2019Artistic, Submissions, Touchingfamily, father, My Father in the Rain, Robert Hoekman Jr., series, sonTim

Your grandpa died, says the note my dad left for me. It was yesterday, and tomorrow, we’ll go there, to Iowa. But when I see him after he comes from work, he is not worn and lost like a son. He is gray and cool and still. Like a couch.

Robert Hoekman Jr thinks you die when you stop wanting. He writes and writes and writes. He lives on a farm in Virginia and refuses to be put into a box. See more at rhjr.net.