Perspectives through Prose, Poetry and Photography
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.
Love, Daddy
p.s. how do you hollow out a book
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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…
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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
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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.
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Poem was so great. As was the memory. So glad you were able to save it.
Sent from my iPad
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Thanks, Hon.
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.
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