“I’ll see you, Daddy…”

And saw him look at me

Blue eyes rimmed with tears

Smiled…Nodded his head.

And every morning

For ages

I saw him…

Sitting in the chair

Looking at Me



I would see him


in memory.

This poem marks the last time I saw my father alive. Today is the day he celebrated his birthday so many times without me ever being there.

I wonder if we ever forget the things left undone; the minutes not used to probe his life; what he felt; what he loved; how he spent his days? He loved dogs and cats; he loved the farm where my family has lived since the early 1800’s.

I will never know now how the hours of his life were spent. I was not there and I am a lesser person for not knowing.

18 thoughts on “Remembering

  1. We have decisions to make each day. At the time we make them we don’t realise that we have to live with that decision for ever. If the decision is made in honesty and for the best reasons we have no reason to regret, although we do. Your father had to make his own decisions too and as a parent we let our children go, loving them and allowing to decide on their own. Allow yourself to enjoy the time you did have with your dear father, not regretting the time you missed. You know he loved you – that’s a start.

    Blessings today.


      • We can only do today that which we have to do! Celebrate his life today, and remember one happy or funny situation in which you both were. The odd thing about the passage of time is that grief and bad memories fade, whereas happiness and amusement increase.


        • Great advice. I shall review those happy times and laugh with him. He was loved by the entire community for his thoughtfulness. He always brought the Sunday newspaper to all the family members….he would go out early and purchase the papers and then delivery them to each house. We lived out in the country. I believe he had a cup of coffee at each house. What a wonderful memory not only for me but also for those that may still be alive to remember.


  2. This is so weird. I was just telling my mom something that fits what you’ve posted. It was about a quote that I heard. I paraphrase, *we don’t regret the things we did, we regret the things we didn’t do.* As I grow older, I find this to be true for me. Hugs to you, Linda.


    • Lori, I find that those of us who blog and read only certain blogs (not dozens and dozens) sometimes seem to be on the same wave length. I have noticed this over the past year. Thank you for reading and commenting. I always look forward to reading what you are doing.


  3. It’s so hard not to be able to spend birthdays and Christmases and other holidays with our loved ones. I already miss my parents and they’re still alive. Can’t imagine when there will finally be a last memory of them sitting in a rocking chair or hugging goodbye. A post that brings tears…


  4. I remember…..always loved seeing him pull up at Granny and Grandaddy’s place. He always had a story to tell in that deep and slow voice of his, that would make me hang onto every word! One of the first indicators that was closer to being a grown-up was when Granny would let me ride my bike down that dirt road, all by myself, to go see Aunt Gertrude and Uncle Ladd. I think back on that now….every turn, the hills. Especially when we drive down that road now. It’s not the same feeling now, from within the truck. But, sometimes I still ride in the back just to get the open air and remember.


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