Father's Day Poem- Long Lost Father

If ever there was doubt that my father loved me
If reasons once eluded me
... Not now

For though the many letters written
Were never sealed or sent
His heart had wrestled with the words
And begged for something more

He is in heaven and I've his attaché'
And within I find dozens of attempts
To right the wrong

Dear Loraine (one page will read)
Dear Loraine, It's been so long...
Dear Loraine, I've missed you so
Dear Loraine, (And a paragraph or two)

But his words don't seem to satisfy
His need to tell me of his heart
So now...

Piece by piece I read of these
To make whole the part, however little late
To right the wrong in all those years

Do his eyes see me from the gate?
I could sit in the window of this jet
High above the clouds and still I struggle yet
To see where Heaven bends

I journey home from my father's country funeral
Where Brother Charles brought us all together for a hymn
In the cemetery off Picketville Lane

It seemed fitting weeds and tattered wreaths
Dotted the tombstone setting
He should be buried in a country place 'neath a tree;
Near the stones of small children.

No manicured lawns for him, with the noise of mowers
And bells in towers
No sterile green devoid of nature's lovely things

Here, when a branch should fall let nature have its way
And leaves should crunch or be brushed away
Only by those he knew and still loves from beyond

Blessed are those who loved him well ... he's now gone.

Written: May 11^th 1994 on the airplane headed home from my father's funeral

Epilogue: Healing comes in many ways, shapes and forms- for me it was an attaché

The attache' was filled with letters of love and regret from my father; along with this was an attempt to write an Alcoholic's Anonymous inventory, a small leaflet on manners, and a photo of my father on a brighter day. He was an Alcoholic of the hopeless variety and yet hopes springs eternal. He found Christ before his death, he contacted his family before his death, and they promptly contacted me knowing my many decades long search for him. He died from a ganglion tumor; inoperable. Six months before his death we made contact over the phone- I thought he had more time- in one of these conversations he called me the apple of his eye- tears flowed endlessly.

My brother and I had planned to see him before he died, but the phone call came that he had slipped into a coma and that it would be better to wait for the funeral. The last time I recall seeing my Father alive I was but eight or nine- the next time I would see him-would be from a casket- the tumor prominently exposed; the size of a golf ball on his forehead, despite the suit and make-up that made him look pleasant.
I have, and always will love my father despite his alcoholism and his loner ways. There will be in my memoirs- the many fragments of my short time with him- these moments are fossilized in my mind ; both the good and the bad. Unfortunately this story happens all too often in the lives of young girls and boys. If you are a father, I beg of you, it's never too late- please contact your child without delay. Make amends, keep the door open, for forgiveness may take quite some time- but always let your child know- the door is open- you are there when they are ready. I'd like to say it's never too late to change- but that isn't true- begin as quickly as possible- for life is short and precious and healing of any kind- Devine. May 10,2010