Sunday, June 20, 2010

Happy Father's Day!

The father-daughter bond is magical. Several years ago, I wrote a poem for my dad. I think sometimes we get busy and forget there are people around us we need to keep in touch with. I love my dad more than he could ever know. He's my hero though I know he's not perfect.


He should never be an afterthought
Only thought of when times are rough
Or just on special occasions
No matter what you do, he always loves you

Phone calls are nice, cards are sweet
But to sit and visit is the best
Even if it's on a riverbank, or in a boat
Maybe walking through the timber

He gave me life, I can give him time
Life's too precious to be selfish
Consumed with my own pleasures
Tied up with my own family

Time isn't forever, love is
Give him the time he doesn't demand
Let him know you can be counted on
That he does hold a special place in your heart


I grew up thinking I was beautiful, because my daddy told me so every day. I also grew up thinking we were rich because we always had new dresses and polished shoes to wear. Neither belief was true, for I am quite ordinary looking, and we actually lived on the wrong side of the tracks. It's just that Daddy always told Mother, "Time to cut and curl those girls' hair, honey." He polished our white-high top shoes every night to go with the cotton dresses Mother made for us. He always wanted us to shine like a new dime.

My self-assurance came from words that I heard everyday from Daddy. "You sure look pretty today," and he kissed me on the cheek. Of course, that was his way, very loving and happy and giving. He told my sisters the same thing, and he praised Mother, too.
I loved and adored my daddy. Every child on earth should be so lucky.


My Dad has passed. It's been awhile, now. I know he's in a much better place, and, at times, I feel his presence, as I did on his birthday, this June 11. My favorite time with him was when I was young. Since I'm the oldest, I had him all to myself for a short time and we'd share all sorts of wonderful things together, including the time he took me outside to see Sputnik pass through the heavens.

My Dad gave me incredible insights about the world, many of which are the foundations of my life. For example, he didn't believe in commercials, meaning whatever they were selling, or whatever the claims, well, it was just propaganda... like smoking is good for you... yep, there were commercials back in the old days of black and white TV, that said cigarette smoking had health benefits.

I say Dad's are beyond special. They are magical. I know, my Dad was, in so many ways.



Celia Yeary said...

My daddy died in 1986 at age 72--young these days--and I've missed him every day. He had the bluest eyes in Texas, and he gave them to my son, and to my grandson. I your poem, Bekki, and your story about your dad, Savannah. Love you all--Celia

Lindsay Townsend said...

Beautiful tributes. Loved them all. I'm afraid I couldn't write one at the moment - with my mom struggling at the moment I found myself 'blocked'.

But these are lovely and I really enjoyed reading them. Thanks so much for sharing.

Savanna Kougar said...

Celia, my Dad had blue eyes, too, though probably not as deep as your dad's eyes.

Bekki, your poem is beautiful and poignant, and hit the right heart spot... sigh...

Lindsay, I know how that goes. Blessings to you and your mum.

That's one thing, for me personally, that made my Dad's passing more bearable, I didn't want him to suffer anymore.