When I was going through my Dad’s papers, I came across a slip of paper that he had given me shortly before he died. It’s a poem he had found and had liked.
To a Daughter Leaving Home
When I taught you
at eight to ride
a bicycle,
loping; along
beside you
as you wobbled away
on two round wheels,
my own mouth rounding
in surprise when you pulled
ahead down the curved
path of the park,
I kept waiting
for the thud
of your crash as I
sprinted to catch up,
while you grew
smaller, more breakable with distance,
pumping, pumping
for your life,
screaming
with laughter,
the hair flapping
behind you like a
handkerchief waving
goodbye.
by Linda Paston
My dad’s note to me, written in his distinctive barely legible scrawl: “I thought of you when I read this today. I remember Mom’s filming me running after you– A lovely memory. Love–Dad”
On this day, I am grateful to the man who, with my Mother, gave me life; and who shared his thoughts on paper.
I am grateful to the man with whom I share my life, and who is ever present. He who understands that some things just need to be kept.
Two years ago on Fathers’ Day, my Dad had a massive stroke. On this day, I reflect on him and his desire to create a life for him and for his wife and daughters, one that had all the things he didn’t have. He would have appreciated this, with its philosophical point of view:
My children have a Dad who is kind, gentle and caring. He has been a pony, a trampoline and a climbing gym. He has fixed broken toys, made dolls and doll furniture. He has read countless books, told stories and colored pictures. He has chased balls, held bikes while his daughters learned to ride and played sleeping rocks. He has fetched frisbees from trees and from the roof and cats from trees. He has been the recipient of many gifts, both tangible and intangible, and he keeps them all in his heart. He has been mentor, guide and confidant, encouraging those in his life to be all they can be. I am blessed to have him in mine.
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My children have a Dad who is kind, gentle and caring. He has been a pony, a trampoline and a climbing gym. He has fixed broken toys, made dolls and doll furniture. He has read countless books, told stories and colored pictures. He has chased balls, held bikes while his daughters learned to ride and played sleeping rocks. He has fetched frisbees from trees and from the roof and cats from trees. He has been the recipient of many gifts, both tangible and intangible, and he keeps them all in his heart. He has been mentor, guide and confidant, encouraging those in his life to be all they can be. I am blessed to have him in mine.