Yesterday was my dad's birthday. He passed away two years ago in October. A great man - he is dearly missed. I especially miss him during holidays when we all get together. I miss being with him.
My dad would have given me the shirt off his back. That's easy to say. Most fathers would do the same for their daughter. My dad had a very kind heart and an easy smile. When he laughed, the whole room boomed with his laughter (or possibly the whole movie theatre...) I remember always trying to get that loud roar of laughter from him. If you could get my dad that amused, you knew it was funny. His approval was a slot machine in Vegas finally paying out with the loud ringing of bells and lights. It was worth that much.
If I think about it, my dad was 100% humor. His eyes twinkled with the hint and promise of a prank or even (to our chagrin,) a semi-risque joke. You never knew what to expect with my dad.
But some of my best memories of my dad are when he would go into the living room and play his revered, finely polished records. He loved everyone from Nat King Cole to Barbra Streisand. And he always listened to them LOUD. He'd lay his long, 6 foot frame on the couch and just link his hands behind his head. Closing his eyes, he'd simply disappear into the music. This was his way of escaping after a long day, and also after his hellish commutes in traffic. I have so many memories of the world waxing low into glorious sunsets - while watching my dad. The music held everything frozen in time. My father's songs still do that for me. They still have the power to stop me dead in my tracks as I'm sifting through a clearance aisle, my hand held up while studying that blouse,...... In the background, I am suddenly aware of a distant song. Tilting my head slightly, a smile spreads slowly across my face. Instantly I am lost in the memories of that long ago music. As Perry Como, Frank Sinatra or Dean Martin echoes around the hordes of distracted shoppers, I close my eyes and remember. The vivid reds, oranges and pinks suddenly wash over me and with damp eyes, I welcome them back. For that small, brief moment - I allow everything else to disappear. I am a child again. My dad is lying with his hands linked behind his head in the living room and dinner is almost ready. After a very long day, the world in winding down again. As wave after wave of these glorious, bright colors paint the insides of my tightly closed eyelids - I stand locked alone in time,.... and no one notices the tears escaping down my cheeks.
Looking up,
I see the man who made me.
He holds me tightly,
my frail life clutched in his hands
as if he won’t let go.
He raises and feeds me,
bathes and dresses me.
He steadies me so I won’t fall.
I am young,
he’s so full of life
and we have so much time ahead.
Through his tears he watches me.
He knows his journey with me
is about to end.
It is my time to move on,
to leave him alone and missing me.
As I pass through the door into another life,
I cry out, “Goodbye dad,
I love you!”
Looking down,
I see the man who made me.
I hold him tightly,
his frail life clutched in my hands
as if I won’t let go.
I raise and feed him,
bathe and dress him.
I steady him so he won’t fall.
I feel old, he’s so full of pain
and we have no more time ahead.
Through my tears I watch him.
I know his journey with me
is about to end.
It is his turn to move on,
to leave me alone and missing him.
As he passes through the door into another life,
I cry out, “Goodbye dad, I love you!”
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