Today, I share a very special poem; one written for me by my Dad, when I was sick with pneumonia in 1978. As the young, working Mom of two children, aged 7 and 4, being hospitalized for 11 days, meant that my husband bore the brunt of keeping the home ship afloat while I was hospitalized (a hat he wears so well and un-begrudgingly).
This simple note brought a smile to our faces then, as it does now. Thankfully, I’ve not had a recurrence since, but I’ve kept it carefully stowed away in a hidden compartment of a hollowed-out book. Dad was a bit of a bard himself, writing unpretentious, sincere poems at the drop of a hat. I wish I’d been able to save all of his poems…from the silly ones written to entertain, to the serious poems written to Mom, after a spat (we would find them carefully set on the kitchen table, left for Mom, by him on his way to work).
It taught me the healing power of a lighthearted message of love, and the value of speaking your heart to your loved ones…leaving an invaluable legacy for them.
(PS: Since I inherited my Dad’s handwriting, I am posting a ‘translation’ , following the penned original).
Dear Joanne: (Don’t Laugh)
An Ode to You
Like climbing a very steep hill,
Is the same as getting ill.
Illnesses’ aches and pains reach the top
From there on down, its clip-petty clop.
Pains and aches are soon a past
We who love you knew it wouldn’t last
You’ll soon be back to your old routine
And sparkle once more like a moonlit beam.
p.s. how do you hollow out a book
It’s been around for years…a book with pages glue d and hollowed out, I think it used to be Bobby’s father’s or grandfathers. I put a picture at the bottom of the post…
tes i am crying , as i too remember all those poems from the heart that our dad would leave for mommy, i too am so glad you save that and happier you shared it with us. just to see his familiar handwritting gave me a feeling i cannot even begin to express. and our bobby always the rock, i’m glad i have him as a role modle , for pete is so like him. i guess it’s called unconditional love, how lucky are we, keep writting i love it all
Yes..me too. Itnwasnwritten on his tile contractor letterhead but I cropped it out for publication. I just remember, as does Bobby, the “don’t laugh” part.
Poem was so great. As was the memory. So glad you were able to save it.
Sent from my iPad
You know…you were there for so many of the morning-after’s..adn of course for the pneumonia…I still don’t know how you managed it all while I was in the hospital!
Thanks for commenting:) Love you.