For my father...

I know not everyone was able to get down to the memorial for my Dad. After Dad died mom spent days trying to write a poem to him/for him/about him. She couldn't. The words just wouldn't come. I, on the other hand, have never been poetic, and yet words seemed to beat at my hands until I wrote them down. I never expected to be strong enough to read this at the memorial, but somehow on the day of the funeral I found the strength. I knew it would have made Dad proud to see me stand up and speak in front of all of those people. So I did:

It’s a dull ache, a constant hollow feeling;

The day we said goodbye.

We watched him take that final breath,

we watched my father die.

But hold tight to the memories,

and lessons that we learned.

My father taught me many things

and was not often spurned.

He has not left this world, you know

I see him everyday.

The land he loved and life he built

will not soon fade away.

He lives on in my brother’s eyes,

and in my mother’s tears,

he lives in all the heartfelt lessons

that he shared throughout the years.

I hear him in the chimes he loved,

and in the clang of steel.

The scent of grass, so freshly mowed,

reminds me that he’s near.

So don’t cry for me, he did not weep

when we first got the word.

He wanted us to carry on,

though at times it seemed absurd.

To live a life without the man,

who shaped my very being,

I could not begin to fathom how,

the future’s still unseen.

But I will try,

I’ll do my best,

to make my father proud.

For he’ll be watching over me

and I could not let him down.

Now get off your butt,

get out the door,

Go out and live your life,

for that’s what he would say to us,

his kids and loving wife.