Remembering my Dad

It's been two years today that I watched my Dad slip away into the arms of Jesus. After a major stroke in 1997, which partly paralized him, he continued to have smaller strokes that disabled him more and more for the next (almost) ten years. A few years before he passed away I wrote the following poem . . .

REFLECTIONS ON THE STAGES OF FATHERHOOD

A little girl runs toward her daddy
coming home from a hard day at the office.
She anticipates the catch
and being carried in his big strong arms.
After dinner, he runs holding on to her bike.
And, in time, he stays behind
cheering the new found freedom,
that he’s wished for her to find.

A teenager goes out on a date.
Daddy’s years of influence have gone so fast
though they’ve been meaningful.
She’s looking for a man that’s safe,
someone who will protect and provide.
And, in time, dad quietly gives his blessing,
hoping he’s taught her right and well,
teary eyed, as she takes the ring.

A young mom with three young children
goes to visit on the weekend.
Dad’s waiting at the front door,
bending down with outstretched arms,
ready to catch his grandchildren.
And, as he carries them inside,
nothing else matters -
they are his biggest joy and pride.

Not quite a middle-aged woman,
and her dad’s health is failing.
She feels cheated. It happened too soon.
The mind that once was competent and bright
is beginning to get confused.
And, as she watches him falter,
she feels the sad reality
of losing her dear strong father.

She looks at the wheelchair
and the once strong arms now resting.
Others are tending to his daily needs
and telling him what to do.
He opens his mouth, but the words don’t come.
And slowly she senses the yearning deep inside
for the day when he can once again
run for his loved ones with arms open wide.