Poem for my Father Your stage four Melanoma changes Everything. Sometimes, like now, I stand outside on the old stone porch, in the dark, listening to the wind rustling the leaves of the trees surrounding the backyard. An occasional dog barks far off in the distance. The red, gold and blue lights twinkle like diamonds down below in Santa Barbara.
I absolutely love this. The things my Dad did for me were always quiet. The ripple of water on the lake, the camaraderie of a shared laugh made at the minor expense of other family members at holiday get togethers, the deeply rooted beautify of woods, the home built wooden swimming pool, the good natured jousting of our opinions that frequently left me in angry tears (because, you see, he treated me like an equal thinker. I thought that I was ready, but I was not. The longer I am a fatherless adult, the more I long from my childhood with my Dad. He was precious, and quiet.
Thank yo so much for what you are sharing these days. You have brought things to the surface for me, that I had lost.
Moving.
So touching
Beautiful writing, gripping. Each image hit the bullseye of those near inexpressible feelings. It was difficult to not cry, reading.
Beautiful! A great tribute that any dad would gobble and treasure forever!
This is a sweet recollection, a bittersweet comforting one. Beautifully written!
I absolutely love this. The things my Dad did for me were always quiet. The ripple of water on the lake, the camaraderie of a shared laugh made at the minor expense of other family members at holiday get togethers, the deeply rooted beautify of woods, the home built wooden swimming pool, the good natured jousting of our opinions that frequently left me in angry tears (because, you see, he treated me like an equal thinker. I thought that I was ready, but I was not. The longer I am a fatherless adult, the more I long from my childhood with my Dad. He was precious, and quiet.
Thank yo so much for what you are sharing these days. You have brought things to the surface for me, that I had lost.
The line about feeling lost was so captivating.
While writing about nationhood and communities, large and small, we sometimes forget that we might feel awkward around our own parents.
"And you know: We’ll always be on that eternal trail together. In spirit." Amen to that.
Excellent, visual writing.
❤️🙏❤️
Brilliant!
Beautiful and also my heart goes out to you