When Silence Speaks: A Reflection on Auden’s 'Funeral Blues'

Today, I stood quietly at the funeral of my professor’s father. He had five sisters and just one brother that’s him. I watched him carry the weight of grief not just as a son but also as the only son. The air was still, heavy with a longing that words couldn’t express. It reminded me of W. H. Auden’s poem, “Funeral Blues”, where grief feels so absolute that even the universe should pause for the one who is gone.

“Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone…”
Auden writes, as if to say, stop the world, my world has ended.

As I saw the lifeless face of my professor’s father, I couldn’t stop thinking how many times had those tired eyes looked upon his children? How many roads had his feet walked for their sake? How many burdens had his hands carried, in silence, without asking for anything in return?

And now, everything is still. His hands, once so busy, rested. His face, which might have smiled in quiet pride, was calm. A father’s presence is like a roof not always noticed, but deeply felt when it’s gone. No matter how successful the son becomes, the pain of knowing his father won’t see it lingers.

Auden’s poem captures that void. The loss that consumes not just a person, but the world around us.

“He was my North, my South, my East and West...”

The father is not just a man. He is direction, strength, silence, and shelter. And when he goes, something deep inside us stops too.

Today, I truly understood the meaning of “Funeral Blues.” It’s not just about death it’s about absence, and the love that lingers in silence.

Dear Sir, this is not just a loss for you. It reminded all of us that a father’s place can never be replaced. This tribute is a small candle in the darkness of your sorrow. May his soul rest in peace and may your strength carry his legacy forward.

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