No One Calls Me Sweetheart Anymore (Dad)
Christmas with dad, 1979.
A couple of years after this photo was taken my dad passed away. The
doctors had told us on March 25th that it would be impossible for him to
make it through the day, much less the night. He could barely speak but
we were still able to communicate with him right up to the end. We
held his hands and sat with him the entire day. The doctors couldn’t
understand what was keeping him alive and Eileen and I were so confused
we didn’t know what day it was. But my father soon let us know why he
waited to die, the following day, on March 26th.
No One Calls Me Sweetheart Anymore
(Dad)
His bony hands on my
two cheeks caused a
numbness to rise in my spine.
He gazed into my eyes with
his beautiful baby-blues
and they caressed my spirit.
He pulled me closer with
a start,
his chapped lips brushed my
cheek with a soft kiss.
His cracked and tired voice
had a sudden surge of
tender strength.
He whispered
in my ear as his two hands
haloed my face,
“Happy birthday sweetheart.”
The next day he was gone.
Copyright 2013 Dennis John Ferado
No comments:
Post a Comment
Thanks for sharing your thoughts with me, SP & many other fellow Poets out here who find peace with expression. Words are powerful and because you took the time to share your thoughts here remember you're making a difference. Use your Voice to give back to the world!
Much <3 SP