It is true that my parents had many a horrible argument, and
sometimes we kids went to
bed crying because we could hear Mom and Dad fighting in the kitchen. But
I also remember that throughout their marriage never a day went by when
they did not also spend at least an hour sitting together, simply TALKING.
They would sit out in the yard on summer evenings, or on the porch, and talk
about everything.....family and hopes for the future and world events as well
as happenings closer to home. They always had plans they were working on
together, whether it be for the next family vacation or for the next improve-
ment they wanted to make on our house. They always made up from their
fights; it may be true that they would just end up fighting again over the same
thing, but at least they did not let it all build up into one long continuous war.
It was only a series of skirmishes, with family trips, Sunday drives,wonderful
holidays, shared work around the house, and lots of laughter in-between.
My parents are both dead now. My mom died of cancer when I was 20, just
months before my wedding. She was my best friend, and I was hers.
She was happy to know that I was engaged to be married to a man she
thought was "just like my dad," and Dad often told me that among her last
words to him she said, "I am glad my Baby will have some one to take care of
her."
My Dad lived to see my marriage and both my kids. He did a wonderful
job of taking Mom's place, and when I had my first baby he learned to do
things he'd never done when he was a young father. He knew I
needed help, so he learned how to feed a baby and change a diaper, and I
often teased him that he ought to open his own daycare center so he wouldn't
be lonely during the months when we weren't close enough to visit him.
He was a natural! He lived until my daughter was 14 and my son was 9. Dad
turned 78 that year, and a few weeks after his birthday he accompanied us on
a camping trip to Busch Gardens, Williamsburg, Virginia. He was hale and
hearty, strong enough to spend the day running around playing badminton and
catch with the kids; he even was proud and happy to show us that he
could run for a short stretch carrying my son on his shoulders. When we came home
from the trip and he returned to his home (about an hour's drive from ours) he
phoned me the next day to say he had a bad stomachache. He didn't get over
it all week and I fretted to him that he should see a doctor. He was a man who
had hardly ever gone to a doctor in his life, and so he stubbornly
insisted he was alright. When we went up to visit him the weekend
following our camping trip, to try to persuade him to go to the
hospital, we found he had died of a heart attack in his sleep. We were all so sad.
I wondered why God would do that, for awhile. But then I
realized that God is very kind.
God knew that Dad would never want to NOT be able to run and play with his
grandchildren, and so God took Dad "home" while Dad was still able to see
himself as a healthy, vigorous YOUNG man. That happy thought restored
my faith, but it didn't help me get over missing Dad; those things take time.
Having friends online was something that helped fill in the big gap that Dad
left, and together the kids, my husband and I have made sure we keep his
memory and the things that were important to him alive for us.
All Within a Time Frame
Yesterday morning a heron
swooped low over my head
as I opened my front door
and stepped out onto my porch into the darkness .
I gave no thought then
to what it meant , Just stood and stretched
and mumbled a complaint about the seasons starkness.
I went back in , sat down
with coffee and began my busy day ,
awaking children ,cooking eggs ,
and grumbling about the many things that must be done .
Helping them with homework , cleaning , mowing grass
baking and myriad uptown errands to complete
before I could sink into my bed and call my race well-run.
I spent the evening
speeding from one child's school event
to the others , and returned home in darkness
to see the heron once more rising from our stream.
I gasped then for a instant , and
shook my head in puzzlement
that an occurence could seem as a sensless as a dream.
As sensless as a dream,
and yet as dreamers do I
felt inclined to wonder what it meant.
two herons framing such a frosty , clear fall day
seemed conclusive like a message being sent
I discovered the next morning
that you had died that day , alone,
While I was busy clearing pathways
through my life
two herons framed your last day on this earth
to show that earth could note your passing
while I was to encumbered with toil and strife
Your passing put our lives on hold
the kids missed school , the mowing went undone
ballgames were played by some one else
and for one whole week new projects wern't begun
you often marvelled at my busy life
when I took the time to entertain you as my guest
was it the wisdom of your old age
that inspired you to simply DIE.
thus forcing us to rest ?
From a Picture
My father is looking at me
from an old frame on the bookshelf
his military picture ,taken many years before I was born ,
when he was much younger than I am now
he is a handsome young man
not at all the father I remember
the father I remember died alone in his bed last month
in a ramshackledy old house that hadn't had
a good cleaning in years ,Between bedsheets
twenty years old and seldom washed.
he was aged and ramshackledy too . toothless , gray-stubbled
grown odd in his solitary habits with a
face both thin and lined over many years of struggling alone
without my mother , who had died sixteen years before him
I do not know the handsome young mane in the picture
he is posing before the camera stiff and proud in his army uniform
cool expression belying a calm self-assuredness that comes
from knowing oneself to be strong capable and without fear
he shows none of the emotions that would betray him as a man
who would one day become my father and my childrens doting grandpa
was that young man a kind loving man too ?
did he hope to one day bounce tiny children on his knee ?
or was he only intent on proving himself more macho than
the next fellow as young men often are ?
what were his hopes and dreams ? did they come true ?
and did the old man i knew remember what it was like
to be the young man looking at me now ?
did he look back and wish he could be that proud young man again ?
and if so who did he tell his secret to ?
I often wonder what my father is like now
that he's in heaven .did he get the opportunity to choose
which self to be for all eternity ? and if he did which did he choose
the beloved yet misunderstood grandfather who lived in a dingy old house
or the handsome young man who wooed my mother,
won acclaim as a champion prize-fighter
and rode off in glory to help his country win a war ?
which life did he prefer ? who is he now ? and if I were to go to heaven
as a visitor would he know who I am ?
....and if he knew how much I miss him ,
would he still care ?
My fathers Way of Life
My father was a man
who never bought anything for himself
he quit hanging underwear
out doors ten years ago because his became so holey
that he didnt want the neighbours to see it
his favorite store for shirts
and pants was the salvation army .where he
often snitched donations off the back step
when the curtains mom hung
got gray and threadbare he searched the closets
for more and when he'd used up those started hanging sheets
when his water heater burst
he mopped the floor lugged the broken heater out the door
and spent the next eight years heating buckets of water on the stove
he pieced his ancient toilet together with wires
heated his big house by burners on his cook stove
and set a trash can under a leak in the roof of his back bedroom
yet every time he saw us
my father handed me money
soemtimes a ten sometimes a hundred and twenty
I would tell him we didnt need it
all the while thinking of things we could use it for
clothes for the kids , a trip , toys for christmas
and dad would say " I remember how much it costs to raise a family "
"If only you live for yourself
you ain't livin for nothin" is something my father said
and once when I had troubles
" sometimes somebody has to change and it has to be you "
my father made a major change last month
In his old run-down house amidst
his old run down things ...he died
I can't begin to tell you how much I cried
in his bank my father has saved
twenty thousand dollars which he had entrusted my brother to give me
"Its not a lot " my brother said apologetically
but its like the world to me
more money that I ever thought I'd see
money for our kids money to pay off the bills
money for a car and money for a rainy day
all because an old man lived by some words he used to say
I wonder if dad used to think about
this day and us paying off our bills and buying our new car
back when he was heating up his buckets of water
and wiring his old toilet and drying his holey clothes in his old house
I feel right now as if I know he did
and thinking of it made him smile
and that is why he liked his way of life .
Seasons Passing
My mother died in spring time
when the world seemed full of the promise of new life
she did not get to hear the robins song again
did not get to see me graduate college or become my Josephs wife
I remember feeling sorrow in the spring
that the daffodils would open without her there to smell them
and I planted easter lilies on her grave
and I always will remember her when the flowers bloom in spring time
My father died in autumn
when the year seemed quickly drawing to a close
he did not get to celebrate another christmas
did not get to hear my children playing in another winters snow
I remember feeling sorrow in the fall
that the trees would change their colors without him there to see them
and I planted gold chrysanthemums on his grave
and I always will remember him when the leaves drift down in Autumn
No One To Tell My Stories Too
There is no one to tell my stories to now
now that you're gone
there's no one to care
about things like
what I cooked for dinner last night
or what my son's teacher said about him
or the funny thing my daughter said at breakfast
there's no one who cares
how many eggs the chickens laid today
or what happened to my husband at work
or what I'm buying the kids for christmas
those things were all important to you
and knowing they were important to you
made them seen precious to me
now I am fighting to keep that feeling
alive inside me when all around me
the external world tells me that
the simple little elements of my life
are inconsequential , bland , trivial
everyone has more important stories to tell than I have
but mine were the most important to you
Oh Dad how I wish you were here to listen
and make my world seem precious once again.
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