I Hate Dialysis Message Board
Off-Topic => Off-Topic: Talk about anything you want. => Topic started by: okarol on June 20, 2010, 02:11:28 AM
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Happy Father's Day to Dad's everywhere!
Our dad died when I was 7 years old. He will forever be 28 years old, young healthy, smiling.
We grew up visiting the cemetery, every holiday. Mom trimmed the grass that tried to cover his name. We said a prayer, then wandered around while mom knelt at his grave. I feel comfortable in graveyards, but my dad is not there. He's in my heart, wherever I go, I know he's near.
Father's Day was always tough. My school had art projects for creating a gift and it was an empty feeling. Sometimes I would make the gift for my grandpa, who was a wonderful father figure for me.
I found this poem. I knew what it meant right away.
Your Dad Did What?
by Sophie Hannah
Where they have been, if they have been away,
or what they've done at home, if they have not -
you make them write about the holiday.
One writes My Dad did. What? Your Dad did what?
That's not a sentence. Never mind the bell.
We stay behind until the work is done.
You count their words (you who can count and spell);
all the assignments are complete bar one
and though this boy seems bright, that one is his.
He says he's finished, doesn't want to add
anything, hands it in just as it is.
No change. My Dad did. What? What did his Dad?
You find the 'E' you gave him as you sort
through reams of what this girl did, what that lad did,
and read the line again, just one 'e' short:
This holiday was horrible. My Dad did.
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"...just one 'e' short..." That's just crushing. :'(
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My Mom and Dad divorced when I was a child. He wasn't allowed in our lives. As an adult, it was important to me to reestablish that relationship. I was truly Daddy's little girl and I adored him. He was an alcoholic. Mom did what she had to do. Dad was the most gentle, kind man I ever met. He was a carpenter and to this day, the smell of new sawn wood brings him back to me. He died of lung cancer, but that was after we had a few years of visiting. He knew we were coming for a visit and he had been in the hospital yet again with his lungs. We spent the whole day together and he played with my two little boys. We drove back to St. Louis the next day (from Ohio) and I got a call late that night that he had died. I believe he waited to die, knowing I was coming. He got to come home from the hospital to spend our day together. It is a wonderful memory. No one will ever convince me that he didn't will himself to live so we could have that last day together. He was a good man with a bad problem. :cuddle;
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I miss my Dad also. He was a Johnny cash look alike in his younger days. He was a drinker also and didn't take crap from anyone. The John Wayne type is the best way to sum him up. The last 15 years of his life was the best, although he was sick for those "best" years he learned how to be humble and appreciate the important things in life. I will never forget him saying how lucky he was to have my Mother as his wife. She stuck with him through all the bad years, and I am so glad she did, because he truely learned what love was and how good life can be once you learn to accept love and learn how to give it properly. After many rough years that almost were ruined beyond repair, my Father and I became best friends and in the end neither he or me have any regrets.
Here is the song I wrote and sang for him before he passed away and I am so glad he knew how much admiration and respect I have for him.
Sluff's Song - Click Here (http://www.ihatedialysis.com/mp3/sluffssong.mp3) (It is in .MP3 format, a new window will open.)
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My Dad was a farmer his whole life who loved football. Probably because it is played in the fall and winter when harvest is done. He did his job to support us and send us through school. I didn't have everything, but I didn't go without. Emotionally..... that was Mom's job so I really wasn't close to him.
::)