Haiku: Daddy's Gone

Memories of him . . .
Daddy's gone but yet he lives . . .
Always in my heart . . .

'Twas the week before Christmas

                      Photo from Google Images

'Twas the week before Christmas
and all through my mind,
danced visions and memories
from a previous time.

The time in my life when dad was alive,
the things that were Christmas to him.
Boxes of chocolate covered cherries,
how dad would dive right into them.

Searching for slippers high and low,
not any old slippers would do.
Dad wore slippers like shoes,
so Christmas would bring him a pair brand new.

Old fashioned fudge was always a must,
and chocolate covered peanut butter balls.
Frosted sugar cookies and hot cocoa too,
and Christmas bliss decking the halls.

We hung Christmas cards on the back of our door
and would read them over and over.
From aunts and uncles and grandparents too,
with pictures of cousins growing quicker than clover.

Christmas Eve would find us all together,
dad and his three growing kin.
After Midnight Mass at church,
we would gather at home again.

Santa would come while we were away,
leaving gifts under the tree.
We'd have hot cocoa and warm sticky buns,
then open our presents with glee.

At the center of all of this cheer,
we never forgot Christ in the meaning.
Christmas comes with peace and hope,
and the best gift of love is a blessing.

Childhood Magic

 

                       Photo from google images

Magic to me was Mr. Bojangles,
with his big rig diesels he drove
and those twinkling bright blue eyes.

Bojangles they called him on the CB Radio
but to us he was know as our dad.
A man who loved burgers and fries.

I learned to climb like a monkey
up into and all around that truck.
I simply could not get enough.

A rough and tumble tom-boy,
who loved working with my dad.
I wasn't scared to be greasy and tough!

The trips were adventures
on the white lined highway.
Honking the horn here and there.

I'd flash lights at the passing trucks
with the toggle switch on the dash,
as they would pass us with care.

The people we would meet
in truck stops along the way,
just loved to entertain tots.

There once was a  nice man
who made music with spoons,
Oh, how I liked him, lots!

Sometimes we would stop and see,
people we loved, our family.
It was nice seeing people we knew.

I talked dad into that puppy
while at Aunties in Sacramento.
Then, in the truck, he pooped in dads shoe!

Then that time in Des Moines, Iowa,
a rare time we stayed in a motel.
It had a pool and I just knew I could swim.

I jumped in the deep end
and floundered a bit too long
and poor dad, fully dressed, jumped in.

I will never forget the magic,
the memories and the adventures,
of my childhood life with my dad.

And even though he's now passed on
he lives on in my heart and my soul,
as the best childhood magic I had.

 

~~~~~

Written for Think Tank Thursday - Nov. 4th

The real magic wand is the child’s own mind

~Jose Ortega y Gasset

To a child magic is amazing possibilities, to a romantic it’s what happens when you fall in love and to a scientist it is something to be scoffed at, magic is something to everyone. What is magic to you?

It could be a familiar smell that brings back a memory, maybe it is silence to a frazzled mother or it might be the wonders of technology, any way you look at it magic means something to everyone. This week use your pen as a magic wand and share with us the magic in your world.

Moonlit Beaches

The moon is amber beauty
softly lighting up the night.
The ocean waves they ripple
as I marvel at the sight.

No more than just a week ago
my feet touched western shore;
ashes in the bay of Frisco,
a loved one I shall see no more.

A family gathered moment,
of dads final wish fulfilled.
In the western bay of his birth
just as he had dreamed and willed.

And now my feet sink in a beach,
on the opposite side of the states;
on a family vacation in Myrtle Beach
with a vast view of Heavens gates.

A dream to fulfill for my little boy,
a vacation of family so hoped for.
My dream for him, a memory,
and maybe something more.

Things aren't always perfect,
and knowing that is the key.
Then we can truly be grateful for
the beautiful blessings we see.

At times like this I appreciate
the vastness of existence.
We are so small in the universe,
yet we fight with much persistence.

We live our life and take it all
with strength, passion and pride.
We may be small yet we try to stand tall,
for we only get this one ride.

My heart is blessed with these two moments,
different as night and day.
But sweet and somber, happy or sad,
I wouldn't have it any other way.

Ashes in the Bay

Our dear sweet dad, its been almost a year,
since the day you passed away;
yet you're still alive in our hearts,
where you live with us every day.

The memories, they come and go;
some of them happy and some of them sad.
But no matter what we miss you,
and long for a bit more time to be had.

We come together in San Francisco,
in this place of your youth we gather.
One year later honoring your last wish,
bringing some of your ashes to scatter.

Memories linger from Nineteen Eighty-seven,
on a special trip we took just us four.
Our single Dad and us three kids,
to the California West Coast shore.

A trip to Fisherman's Wharf of course,
and a boat ride around Alcatraz as well.
We fed the birds from our young hands
and marveled at the oceans smell.

A trip beneath the Golden Gate,
where my dad told childhood stories.
He could swim across that bay,
where baby sharks to him were no worries.

He was tough and strong-a survivor,
and he wouldn't let much beat him down.
We knew he would always protect us,
we felt safe when he was around.

Childhood comes and goes, its true,
but the memories of youth remain.
And when you lose someone close to you,
the love lives on, comforting pain.

So today we join together again,
to scatter your ashes in this bay;
but its not to say 'good-bye' dear Dad,
because in our hearts you'll stay.

~~

In Loving Memory of my Dad
John M. Chase
7/18/1950 - 7/27/2009

San Francisco 7/2010

He had Never Cried Like this Before

As a little boy he was taught
to hide those tears away;
toughen up and be a man
'cuz real men don't act that way.

With a gentle side and a bit shy too,
he didn't like to fight at all.
His dad would get the boxing gloves,
and engage them in a brawl.

He tried his best to be the boy,
he thought his daddy wished for;
Threw punches back and forth,
Until alas he'd hit the floor.

Get back up with a bloody nose,
and tears held back real tight.
He wanted to be close to his dad,
but he didn't really like to fight.

Years flew by and this same boy
toughened up in his own skin.
He traveled a bit of a rough road,
lessons to learn, places he's been.

Made it through to the other side,
rough and tough much like his Dad.
The Cats in the Cradle was their song,
but with their own memories to be had.

The years were hard and took their toll,
leaving Dads body weathered and old.
His boy next door watched this man,
aging quickly yet still strong and bold.

Many years before his time,
His dear Dads health started to fade.
He'd had a very tough life,
There were dues that he had paid.

The time came and dad began
to fade beyond all hopes of return.
His poor body was tired and weak,
and his soul was tired in turn.

The day came the boy saw his dad,
ask for peace and fade away.
Then one early Monday morning,
he took his last breath on Earth that day.

The memorial day was met with sun,
beautiful blue with clouds in the sky.
And at the service he held his daughter,
as tears for her Grandpa fell from her eyes.

This boy so tough and now a dad,
was overcome by his little girls tears.
He hadn't expected it to take him over,
but he felt tears for the first time in years.

He held his baby girl as she cried,
comforting her in every way.
He knew his Dad was finally at peace,
no more pain for him today.

Looking back his Dad had taught him,
everything he needed to know.
Strength, love and determination,
and the will to learn and grow.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Inspired by my Dad (07-1950 ~ 07-2009)
And my brother John and my niece Jade
At my dads memorial on 08-01-2009