I'm sitting here at my desk, looking out the back door at Sarah playing in the dirt at the bottom of our back yard. She got up and ran up the hill towards me and it struck me how much she looks like her brother at that age. I wish I'd had a camera on hand to take the picture.
The past two weeks have been weirdish. Last week was six months since dad died. This Saturday would have been his 63rd birthday. Time has made the heartache less. But every now and then, I remember and tears come unbidden. A song he loved, books or movies I think he would have loved, a joke or funny picture or story about the kids I want to tell him.
It's because of my dad I'm here really. He introduced me to sci-fi and fantasy. To Adams, Heinlein (who I didn't appreciate until my 30s), McCaffery and a whole host of others. I don't know if I ever thanked him properly for that.
In the last years of his life, dad really got into writing poetry. I'd like to share one with you he wrote near the end, it was read at his memorial service. He always said that he didn't believe in God, but I think deep down, he believed in something. This poem reflects that.I am the lightening of the dark,
the eternal bless of the souls' last breath
I emanate from the mouths of babes and elder folk
a slight curve of lips and scintillated eye.
Encouraged by a million uplifted prayers
of boundless energy and hope,
I travel a billion silent ways
seeped into the grain of every heart
that had beat or cried out in despair.
For all the anguished moments;
I lend heartbeats of care,
loving arms to entwine withered body,
maimed with inconceivable injustice,
I bring emancipation.
Speak my name with reverence and with pride.
In your hour of need do not hide behind your fears,
for salvation resided within the breath of just two words-
I miss you dad.--Cut-- Click here for more --Cut--