A few weeks back, we wrote about our mothers’ influence on our lives. This became a bitter-sweet exercise. So with the potential of opening another can of worms, we ask you to write about your other parental unit and give Dad his due (or comeuppance). And be prepared for my emotional surprise.
“HOW DO YOU VIEW your life? – POETIC BLOOMINGS MEMOIR PROJECT
Part 16: Just Wait Until Your Father Gets Home – Now, write something about your father and your relationship with him!
MARIE ELENA’S FATHER:
When He’s Gone
His grandchildren refuse to think of life
Without their Grandpop.
He has been there for them
In every way imaginable
In all the ways
That make a difference in one’s life.
I refuse to think of life without him as well.
He has been there for me
In all the ways that make a man
Both a father and a dad.
He has cheated life
Perhaps hundreds more.
“God must have more for me to do.”
Yes, Dad. How right you are –
More love to give
More guidance to offer
More music to make
More prayers to pray.
And when he’s gone, he’ll live on.
Copyright © – Marie Elena Good – 2012
(This is a revised poem. The original was written in response to Sally Jadlow’s “When He is Gone” prompt for Day 9 of Robert Lee Brewer’s November Chapbook Challenge.)
I heard the words in your voice,
and I am frozen in my seat.
Six years have passed since the sound
of you has graced and comforted,
in a simple greeting you have trumpeted
a fanfare that touched my soul and I can’t
control the tears and emotion.
I never would have thought you would
have that effect on me this long after passing.
It will be a lasting memory held dear.
It was as if you were still here.
Copyright © – Walter J. Wojtanik – 2012
*** I initially had chosen a piece that was featured in my chapbook WOOD. It is one of my favorite poems about my Father. I had hoped to revive it here. Dad had passed in Dec. 2006.
However, yesterday I had unearthed a box of mementos from Dad’s house from when we cleaned it out before selling it. Among various kitchen gadgets and recipe books, was his wall phone/answering machine. I plugged in the charger to see if it still worked. Wiping the dust from the phone I inadvertently brushed the “message” button. I heard, “Hello. I am unable to come to the phone. Sorry I missed you. Leave a message and I’ll talk to you soon.” Crisp. Clear. In my Father’s voice. I played it and listened to it nearly a hundred times . It was wonderful to hear him again. He sounded so good. I’ve come to grips with the emotion and have found peace. As always, his timing was impeccable. Just in time for my “Father” poem.