Happy Father's Day

To our son...

Who is a wonderful father.

With patience and understanding and love for his little beans.

To my husband...

Who taught the boys how to bate a hook and catch a fish ...

  Who helped with paper routes and coached them in Little League.
Taught them how to sleep in a camper truck and stop asking "When are we going to get there?"

Who showed them how to negotiate life's ups and downs.

And try to land on your feet...most of the time.

And to my dad...

Who taught me how to make a bed, wash a car, dress well, turn out the lights when you leave a room and take care of your family.
I love you and miss you dad...

Here's to my brother in laws, John and Jeff, for all you do and more. There should be a medal of honor for going above and beyond fatherhood... and choosing to adopt children who need a family.  You are heroes in my eyes.

Here's to all Dads, everywhere. It's a hard job and you deserve a special day.

A Dream

I had a dream about my father early this morning. ...,

It's been almost a year and a half since he died. I never had a dream about him after he passed. It seemed as though he just disappeared from the earth and my sight. The only place that I found him was in my heart and in all the memories, good and bad, that lingered in his place. And then, this morning I had this dream....

He was waiting for us in some kind of park. There were other people walking around. It was a fair or outdoor show. I saw him over near the wall of a building behind a planter that had beautiful flowers blooming in it. He seems to be waiting. He was just standing there, smiling just a little. I walked over and asked him if he was all right. He said "Yes" and we hugged each other. I could feel his bones through his skin as I held him. I felt short, as if I were a young girl. I was hugging him around his waist instead of his shoulders. He hugged me back but he seemed frail and weak. He asked me where everyone was and I said "I'm not sure." We looked around but couldn't see anyone we knew. So we just waited there together and I held on to his hand.

That was all. I woke up. When I went into the kitchen I still felt like I wasn't quite awake; that I was still somewhere else. My husband came in and looked at me. "Mornin', you look like you need a cup of coffee." I told him that I had a dream about Dad. He came over, gave me a hug and said "Are you all right?". I held on to him and cried for a few minutes then grabbed a kleenex, poured myself a cup of coffee and sat down on the couch.
I sat there for quite a while, sipping coffee and thinking about the dream. I think it was a good dream and that Dad is Ok. I just don't know why this dream came now...., or why we dream..., or what the dream meant. Maybe nothing. Maybe everything.

Worth remembering

I said that I wouldn't make a big thing of my dad's passing, one year ago today, but I have altered my thinking about this just a bit.

My youngest son gave me a poem about the day we spread Dad's ashes in San Francisco Bay and I thought that I would honor him today with his grandson's poem.



THE SPREADING
As we wait on a wall of sea breeze,
pelicans fly in formation above the water,
and mother remembers that, when in Aptos,
they called these pelicans The Mafia.


All the while, families wait with guarded cargo,
wait, squinting through the blanched acrylic windows.
at the bridge that paints a ruddy-orange matrix,
stroked against the grey morning sky, and

carnations in hand to shed as stirring crops,
we shore up our own exact, tender words
-flowers with which the barren is faced-
as we wait on a wall of sea breeze,

to release his "request" into the water;
a fixture of colors in the many-eyed sea,
like trillions of glimmering peacock feathers.
A bodily belonging on the slopes of the bay.

TO MY DAD: on his birthday

I KNEW THIS MAN WHEN

I remember you!
The young man
That lifted me so high above his head
That I had to catch my breath and breathe.
Didn't you read me Sunday morning comics on your lap?,
Tuck me in bed at night
And rub my back when I was sick?

You were the man who
Taught me how to make a bed,
Wash the family car and
Ride a bike.

You were young, handsome and tan.
(Mom said it was the "Indian in you.)
You were the first man
I ever fell in love with.

Was it so long ago, when you taught me
How to drive a car and waited, not so patiently,
For me to come home from a date?
Was it you who held my small hand
When I crossed the street?....
Then gave my hand, in marriage,
On my wedding day.

Do you remember
When you brought my old teddy bear
To the hospital
After my cancer operation?
Bravely joking with me;
Telling me everything would be OK.

Where did you go?
Could this old man be you?
Lying so still, so quiet, breathless
And beyond the boundaries of life,
Where I cannot follow.
Where are you now?
Do you know that we're here?

I loved you young man.
I loved you...old man.
But you knew that, didn't you?
So it's Ok.
I'm sad, but it's Ok.


My father would be 94 years old today. He died last year and didn't really know who he was anymore because of Alzheimer's disease. He was not an easy man to live with but my mother always loved him. He worked hard and took good care of his family. I miss the man he was.

******