It has been more than twenty years since my father died. Sometimes it seems unreal that he isn’t here. I often look at my two grandgirls and think of how much Daddy would have loved and enjoyed them. I would love for him to see my own children as adults now - how proud he would have been of them!
Here is a poem I wrote a few years after my father’s death. I’ve posted it here before, but it is so personally meaningful that I wanted to post it again. So bear with me.
Sphere: Related ContentDaddy
Are you up there, Daddy?
Sitting up in heaven
Watching us here on earth?
Laughing at us, wondering about us,
Or crying?
Life is such a crazy hodgepodge
Happiness - sadness - exhilaration - depression
All put together
Are you there? Seeing . . . and caring?I miss you
I miss telling you about my victories and defeats
You always were interested
And wanted to know more.Where are you?
I don’t understand death
I remember dreaming about you several years ago
In my dream, we were at the Flea Market
I heard your voice, your laugh
I saw your face - you were alive
I want that dream againMother told me that when she was nine years old
And her father died
She prayed that she would dream of him
Because she knew then, and only then, she could see him.
I’m so much older than nine now
Yet I still want to dream of you
I want to experience again the peace of your unconditional love.I remember one day I visited you - I was a parent myself then
I had the flu, and you tucked a blanket around me
Set me in front of the fire and cared for me
One brief evening so many years ago
And yet I remember - with longing.Maybe you were the only person who was completely on my side
No judgments. No expectations. Just acceptance - and love.When I was a little girl
You were the one I wanted to comfort me when I was hurt or sad
I was special. I was Cabbie.You were the one who told us stories
Of growing up with four brothers
Your adventures skinny-dipping in the Yellow River
Your near-miss in the lightning storm with Uncle James.We children would crowd around you
In your little office behind the house
“Tell us more,†we’d plead,
And you’d oblige.One Friday in 1986, you were visiting us
And we were at the Grand ol’ Opry laughing together
The next Friday we were gathered around your grave.
Life changes forever too quickly
No time for a final “I love youâ€
Or a smile, or a good-bye.I want to drive up in your driveway again
And see you waiting for me
“There’s my Cabbie,†you’d say
And I would be a little girl once more
Safe, protected . . . in the arms of fatherly love.(written in February 1993 by CSJ)
June 15th, 2007 at 10:33 pm
Thanks for posting this again, Carol.
June 16th, 2007 at 12:28 pm
I’m glad you posted this poem again. Life is hastening by with too little time for us to express and enjoy the loves of our lives.
June 16th, 2007 at 6:37 pm
beautiful. I treasure every day I still ave with my dad.
June 16th, 2007 at 11:47 pm
Well, that made me cry.
June 16th, 2007 at 11:50 pm
Gifts from my Father…
We need men. One of the bones I always had to pick with women’s liberation is that it devalued men. I never understood why women could only be valued at the expense of men. Both are valuable in their own right. Both are needed. One doesn’t …
June 17th, 2007 at 2:52 am
My dad died 5 years ago and my post for my Sunday Seven is dedicated to him.
Your post really touched med. Thanks for sharing it.
Good day!
November 20th, 2007 at 12:49 pm