To my dad, who lives in California…
On Father’s Day, I take out the stones of remembrance,
Those memories I’ve hidden safely in my heart:
Of kisses on my feet;
Of favorite breakfasts made to the best of his ability;
Of lunch at Burger King, when he listened to all my dark dreams with kindness and understanding;
Of dinner at a fancy restaurant,
And tea at the Elizabethan Club;
Of walking beside me in my rags,
Or those few days I showed beauty.
I remember the strolls in Brewster Park,
And drives from the doctors with good news, answered prayers…
I remember when he held my hand in the emergency room, saying nothing when words were futile.
I remember the quiet song of Psalm 121,
And the promise from Jeremiah 29;
All the talks about Irenaeus and Tertullian
Over a glass of fine wine;
And prayers together back when we had hours to spare:
I have an hour to spare, Dad. I miss you!