Today would have been my father's 91st birthday. He passed on in 1992. When he was 10 years old, the Stock Market crashed and he came of age during the Great Depression. When I was 11 years old Woodstock happened and I came of age during the Watergate fallout. Two very different worlds often collided under a single roof.
I wrote the poem below for my dad in November 1980. This is for you, Dad, as much today as it was then. Happy Birthday.
Regrets
I called my dad tonight;
We started with the weather
And ended with 'I love you'.
I remember I stopped kissing him good-night
When I was fifteen.
I wish I were back home tonight,
....And fourteen again.
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You certainly do know how to bring tears to the eyes... That was beautiful!
ReplyDeletemy dad left the world in 2000, at 69... some gaps can never be filled...
Dad was only 72 when he passed. It's funny how, when you're young, you look at that number and think how old it sounds. Then, as you get older yourself, it doesn't sound so old after all. And when you love them, no matter how old they might have been, they were too young to go away......
ReplyDeleteI'm very sorry. I'm sure he was a great man. I'll offer a prayer for you both tonight.
ReplyDeleteThe poem is so very touching.
ReplyDeleteBesides your father's birthday, it must be the time of year for sad remembrances. I've been thinking about my father lately too . . . and wishing I had had him a lot longer.
I miss our conversations. I was already an old man when my old man died so we were having similar experiences. Our conversations were interesting to say the least and sometimes hilarious. Those others around us didn't have a clue. Now he is gone but I sometimes still talk to him he just doesn't answer. My other options of who to talk with are mostly less interesting. I'll be 72 March.
ReplyDeleteI'll never be ready for my Dad to leave. He called to let me know his stress test was sketchy and that he takes the second half today. That's when they will decide if he can go in for surgery. On the flip side his creatine levels are better than that of someone with two kidneys and the cancer is isolated to one area. I'm still praying.
ReplyDeletexox HUGSfromTX xox
Yes, June, it is THAT time of year--when the shorter days yield to introspection. My father and I were often at odds but we became very close in the years before his passing. I was at his bedside when he left us. Yes, Emmy, he was indeed a great man. In his quiet, patient way he was a person of great dignity. I can still sometimes see him in his acre-sized organic veggie garden tending the fruits of his labour--the golden retriever (Babe) laying near-by. A picture of pure bliss and serenity. Like you, Oldfool, I miss the conversations and the funny stories that-- once I got over my cheap, imported self--came to appreciate and found the person beneath the role. I will keep your dad in my thoughts, Red, as he goes through the processes. I enjoyed making his acquaintance and hope with all my heart that he will be restored to good health. The void they leave, Gwen, is unfathomable but we can at least bridge the gap with our memories.
ReplyDeleteDitto but for my mum. It is painful having regrets but I can't see how one can't no matter what personal history and recollections we have. I've come to think being kind to oneself is the area in which we have some control over not having regrets.
ReplyDeleteliZZie: As the Desiderata says: "Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself". I think that's a wise admonition. We are so often too hard on ourselves for things we have very little control over. On the other hand, we sometimes fail to see beyond the moment to realize what our words or actions may result in down the road. I think you are quite right--in being kind to oneself we are more likely to express kindness to others. The ratio of regrets to kindness are practically non-existant.
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