Wednesday, December 2, 2009

Dad

Dad


Tomorrow Dad

The sixth birthday

Marked only by December flowers

Left to shiver

On your small plot, with tears

You the constant gardener

Who expected little

But gratefully received

One certain style of pipe

Gold Block tobacco

In pleasing golden tin

Slippers with an outdoor sole

A gardening tool

And music music music

Then- was it for your eightieth?-

New system and a headset

Where you could go to dream


I miss you still

My perfect model

How-to-be a dad

Memory not dimmed

But no more rosy than the truth


Just one more thing you've taught me

With physics self-belief and maths

For you and me there's Afterlife

Love still beyond the grave



1st December 2009, Flight Toulouse-Gatwick. I.M George Mc Donald 02/12/1914-22/08/2004








5 comments:

  1. Amen!

    Sally, this poem, for me, has the quality of a still and limpid pool of water, so clear and bright, and so full of love, faith and hope. Thank you very much!

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  2. Thank you Jen. This poem did indeed come from the most powerful feeling of love. As the years have passed I seem to feel that more and more clearly. Perhaps because Dad's last years were blighted by Alzheimer's it has taken a while to get back beyond that to the lovely man he was, bless him. I am a very fortunate daughter and feel that increasingly.I wonder do you remember him at all? I know Clare does.

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  3. Sally, he must of been such a wonderful dad, as you are such a wonderful kind person - its the the genes!

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  4. I keep reading this and I just love the way you have captured your dad and your feelings. It was a long time before getting in touch with the loss of my dad as his daughter and not the loss of the husband of my mum if this makes any sense. I miss mine too and because of our physical seperation in miles and the one created by my Mum I still have sadness that we allowed that to happen. His love of wood lives on in me and when I see it, touch it and smell it it takes me back being alonside him with my wood and tools as he worked with his. The architect in him has passed on genetically to his grandson although his grandson never knew!

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  5. My experience is just the same Jude. Only once mum had died could I get back in touch with my loss of dad, rather than hers as his wife. There was if I am honest always a problem with mum coming between dad and I as I always felt she resented our close relationship. This year I have - as I've shared with you= experienced so much more grief about the loss of both my parents.

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