Sunday is Father’s Day, and I miss my daddy, even though this is our eighth Father's Day without him. But I have so many images of him in my internal memory book. Many of them I included in this prose poem I wrote when he was still alive. He would have been the first to say he wasn’t perfect, but he loved his children deeply. And he showed--and spoke--his love.
He belonged to a generation that left young children largely in the mother's care, as they did most domestic tasks. He was an exception. My sister, my brother and I have dear memories of time we spent with him, fishing, walking, reading, or just being; and although only the oldest grand can remember him, all of them know Gramps's special dishes--tomato gravy, hoe cakes, and peanut butter cake. I couldn’t think of a better way to say how blessed I was to have him than with this Father’s Day gift.
Father Images: A Prose Poem
My father laughs loudly at bad jokes and drinks beer furtively. He believes in God and FDR and Willie Nelson. He drives a black pickup with a gun rack across the rear window and reads Westerns by Louis L’Amour. He knows real men work hard, protect their women, and never cry.
I remember when I cut my foot, and he held me on the way to the hospital. The blood was bright as hair ribbons, and I was scared. And Daddy said, “Go ahead and scream, honey”—even though I was seven and a big girl. I remember when I had the wreck, and his arm was gentle around my shoulders. The lights were whirling red, and I wanted it all to wind backwards. And Daddy said, “The car don’t matter. You’re ok”—even though I was eighteen and had known how to read STOP for long years. I remember when Ken died, and the pain was white hot inside, and I was far away. And Daddy said, “It’ll be all right, baby; it’ll be all right”—even though I was twenty-two and too old to believe in magic.
Now he sits with hands strangely clean, watching reruns on TV and planning the garden he’ll plant come spring. When I leave him, he still says, “Behave yourself” and “Do you have enough money?”
What are your favorite images of your dad or other father figure in your life?
What are your favorite images of your dad or other father figure in your life?
