DAD

entry picture

There was a man I knew,

not too close, not too far,

as a child he was there

to tend to my scars.

 

A man with a past,

of that I had no doubt,

a man, when provoked,

who knew how to shout.

 

A happy man

with a smile for all,

he'd always be there to

pick me up when I'd fall.

 

And though never far away,

we were never very close,

a sign of those times

one can only suppose.

 

But I loved him.

 

Now as time moved on

I matured and grew,

a family of my own

I now saw things anew.

 

The man, as a child,

that I thought I had known

seemed to change before my eyes,

a hard life taking its toll.

 

Strangely enough

and not before time

our relationship blossomed,

it made my heart shine.

 

He loved his grandchildren;

how they laughed and they played,

he always had time,

no excuses ever made.

 

And I loved him.

 

We soon began to talk

and enjoy things the same,

it was late in the day

and as such quite a shame.

 

But then Dad became ill

and could no longer hide

the insidious destroyer

that was growing inside.

 

For long years he battled

and for a time he seemed free

of the terrible disease

that would not leave him be.

 

The clock of his life

was now running down,

but no tears, no sadness,

no worries or frown.

 

And I loved him.

 

He wouldn't give in

and let us all know

that his time was now short,

he would soon have to go.

 

A man once so tall,

so tough and so proud,

his heart beating strong and

his voice booming loud.

 

The head of the family,

protector of all,

to nurture, support,

a role model to call.

 

He was always around

when I needed him most,

as gentle as a feather

yet strong as a post.

 

And I loved him.

 

Adored from afar,

respected and revered.

A clown full of laughter

and yes, even feared.

 

Cut down far too soon,

he had so much to give.

A friend, now so close,

it’s not fair, let him live!

 

Crumbling from inside

and so painfully thin,

so cruel and heartless,

a tragedy; a sin.

 

Snatched from my grasp

with a heart rending cry,

please give him back,

I don't understand why?

 

You see, I loved him.

 

After all the years of

my life, young and old,

so many good times,

fun and laughter untold.

 

Once a distant observer,

I was now at ringside,

no longer a stranger,

no wasteful divide.

 

Too soon, too soon,

can't you give us more time,

this can't be it all,

not the end of the line?

 

And then just an emptiness,

a terrible rift,

the weight on the soul

is impossible to shift.

 

For I loved him.

 

Nothing left to show,

just a memory, a hole,

a feeling of loss

I just couldn’t control.

 

A man who for most of

our time seemed aloof,

had grown into my life

and I needed no proof.

 

His pride had been there

for us all to see,

the gleam in his eyes

when he looked at me.

 

'A grafter' he’d once called me

with beaming pride,

the smile on my face

was impossible to hide.

 

For I loved him.

 

I'm glad, before his end,

I was able to show

that it wasn't all wasted,

for he helped me bestow

 

some of that jovial love,

that heart-warming smile,

on those in my life

who had enjoyed his style.

 

Regrets, we all have

and they're all part of life,

some hard to accept and

some cut like a knife.

 

But mine are so simple,

so normal, so plain and

yet they still fill me

with saddening pain.

 

Because I loved him.

 

For all that we did and

the closeness we shared,

I just couldn't open up

and tell him I was scared.

 

If I could just have a minute

with the man that I miss,

it would be a sweet moment

of heavenly bliss.

 

I would hold him so close

and squeeze him so tight

and on his sweet brow

kiss him gently goodnight.

 

I would look in his eyes,

so sweet and so blue

and simply say to him,

"Dad, I really love you."

 

 

Written by Darren Scanlon, July 2012.

Revised 17th May 2015.

©2015 Darren Scanlon. All rights reserved.

cancercelebrationdaddeathfamilyfatherlooking backlossloveprideregretsson

◄ CURTAIN CALL

DARK PANACEA ►

Comments

Profile image

Patricia and Stefan Wilde

Mon 18th May 2015 19:36

really moving poem Darren(you look very much like him too!.) And how common and how destructive is that-

'wasteful divide'....... UGH! xx



If you wish to post a comment you must login.

This site uses cookies. By continuing to browse, you are agreeing to our use of cookies.

Find out more Hide this message