MEMORIES OF MY DAD
I had a friend on whom I could depend, who would stand by me to the end, who cared for me and shared with me the good, the bad, when I was sad or glad, when I was reflective or introspective he'd listen to me comfort me.
Sometimes in the middle of the night I'd awaken in fright from an unexplained nightmare. He'd be there, turn on the light and scare away the monsters dancing in the midnight air. "You see," he'd say, "there's no one there. Go back to sleep but first kiss me good night and hug your Teddy Bear."
I remember now that dad is dead everything he did and said. I can feel his warm hand on my head. I can smell the tobacco that was always part of the clothes he wore. I remember the time his pipe fell from his mouth and landed on the floor and there were ashes everywhere. I heard him stamping out the sparks and, in the dark, I heard his laugh. "No damage done, my son, " he said as he swept the ashes off the floor, slowly walked from my room and closed the door.
I remember so much about my dad. All the good times that we had The talks, the walks to the ice cream store, the fancy clothes he always wore, going to the ballpark, keeping score, helping him sell at his clothing store, birthdays, my bar mitzvah, the jokes he told, most were old but that's what older dads are for, the day I left to go to war---all this and so much more.
Most of all I can't forget how I cried the day dad died. I could not hide the tears I shed. I know he's dead but he's still there to comfort me, He lives on in my memory. This all happened long ago. I still miss him so. He was the best friend I ever had. He was my dad.
Sometimes in the middle of the night I'd awaken in fright from an unexplained nightmare. He'd be there, turn on the light and scare away the monsters dancing in the midnight air. "You see," he'd say, "there's no one there. Go back to sleep but first kiss me good night and hug your Teddy Bear."
I remember now that dad is dead everything he did and said. I can feel his warm hand on my head. I can smell the tobacco that was always part of the clothes he wore. I remember the time his pipe fell from his mouth and landed on the floor and there were ashes everywhere. I heard him stamping out the sparks and, in the dark, I heard his laugh. "No damage done, my son, " he said as he swept the ashes off the floor, slowly walked from my room and closed the door.
I remember so much about my dad. All the good times that we had The talks, the walks to the ice cream store, the fancy clothes he always wore, going to the ballpark, keeping score, helping him sell at his clothing store, birthdays, my bar mitzvah, the jokes he told, most were old but that's what older dads are for, the day I left to go to war---all this and so much more.
Most of all I can't forget how I cried the day dad died. I could not hide the tears I shed. I know he's dead but he's still there to comfort me, He lives on in my memory. This all happened long ago. I still miss him so. He was the best friend I ever had. He was my dad.
posted by Ed Weiland at 9:12 PM
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