Blessed is the man . . . – Psalm 1:1

I wrote the poem sitting at a carrel in the college library, gazing out the window at the blue sky and worrying about my dad. It was the summer before he died. I attended summer sessions that year, with the plan to graduate in three years.

With every visit home, I noticed Dad getting thinner and thinner, his skin turning a grayish hue. He’d lie on his back on the hardwood floor, explaining the pain as recurrent from injuries sustained in the Battle of Attu during World War 2 – nearly 30 years earlier.

I had my doubts, but he assured me he’d consulted with both his personal physician and a chiropractor. Something deep inside me knew something was seriously wrong, and so, from the depths of my heart, I composed the following poem, which I slipped into his casket four months later.

I share it with you now, with the hope that its words will stir up warm memories of your own fathers. And, fathers, that you would see into the hearts of your children. Time goes by so quickly. Cherish every moment.

DAD, MY DAD

Dad, my Dad, where have you gone?

I once walked by your side.

My two small steps could never match

Your slow but gentle stride.

My small hand in yours would rest,

You were a giant then.

But yet so gentle, yet so kind –

My hero among men.

Dad, my Dad, where have you gone?

Your lap was once my throne.

Your hair, a crown of grizzled black,

To gray when I had grown.

Dad, you shouldn’t work so hard –

You’re getting much too thin.

Go out and shoot a round of golf –

Take me, for sure you’ll win.

Father dear, I’m far away,

I need a loving hand

To slip me change when I go broke

And gently reprimand.

Dad, my Dad, where have you gone?

My son walks by my side.

His two small steps will never match

Your slow, but gentle stride.

Thank you, Lord, that even though I still miss my daddy after 47 years, I know I will see him in heaven. Amen.

Read and meditate on Psalm 1.

© 2018 Michele Huey. All rights reserved.