I Stood In The Rain

Missing Dad

I’m here in the yard, at the house I grew up in. I mowed the lawn as I usually do. But I’m missing my Dad. He’d be sitting right here, outside in the warm air. We’d be talking about this, or that, or even silently enjoying that which God created. Sharing a mutual respect for the simple things that make life grand. Seven weeks ago today, God took him home. I’m home, and I miss him.

I mowed the lawn with MapMyWalk! Distance: 1.93mi, time: 01:07:17, pace: 34:52min/mi, speed: 1.72mi/h.
http://mapmywalk.com/workout/1509954698

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A Month and the Sox

April 14, 2016 – My Dad was taken home by his Lord and Saviour. There are bunches of my words that you can read if you so wish, regarding my Dad’s death found in the following links. Dad. The Man is Gone. A Dad and This Boy. I miss him.

May 14, 2016 – We took the twins and their older brothers to Fenway Park to see the Red Sox play. It is the 6-year-old twins’ first trip to the old ballpark in Boston.

Oh the old ballpark, that Ruth, Foxx, and Williams called home. (c) 1inawesomewonder

A Dad and This Boy

I thought that I was doing pretty well, then came along, this day

Two weeks ago today, Dad you were called home, out of the fray

 

Dad, I sat down at my laptop to start writing these thoughts I kept

An alert blinked, so I clicked, a picture of us opened up, I wept

 

I have said, I was blessed to do what God has allowed me time to do

I wasn’t done Dad, why did you have to leave now, I trust God knew

 

I always acted in love, knowing that one distant day you’d be gone

Leaving a hole here in my world, rhythm broken, no tasks to be done

 

You would just get better, together we would move on, more time to share

Then one April morning I rushed, to be with you, but you weren’t there

 

When do we get to share a coffee and relive the moments we love?

Now I sit here by myself, mulling over this and that, I look above

 

What about the road trips we talked of Dad, where would we go?

I drive for hours, all over the place, and creation, let me know

 

Dad, who is going to tell me stop, or to turn, on our way to Canada?

Dad, I’d stop every time you needed, regardless of my own stamina

 

Dad, can we gather round the table one more time and just let loose?

Oh, we’d laugh til tears, you, my siblings, Mom, this boy you called moose

 

I look at the hoop and wonder if I’ll ever see that arch ever again

Dad, you were one the best lefty shooters there has ever been

 

You weren’t well, but I never thought this day would come so soon

Dimly, I thought that maybe when the day came, I’d be somehow immune

 

Dad, I am not immune, I can barely get through a day, maybe even two

I can’t imagine the despair of those who don’t know the Truth you knew

 

I wouldn’t make it were it not for the message, the way to heaven’s door

As a child, I’d lay in bed and pray that prayer every night just to be sure

 

It was you Dad, you shared the gospel and led me to the foot of the cross

It was you Dad, you put it out there, heaven bound, no longer lost

 

And, Dad, one day it will be our great day of celebration and joy

When, we all get together in heaven, it’ll always be a dad and this boy

 

How we will laugh, and in perfect health, we will walk the streets of gold

Dad, we will all see you again, in the land where we will never grow old

 

This is the picture that popped up on my laptop today.

The Standard is Falling, but He Answered His Calling

I know I’m not the first, nor the last, to have a parent in a nursing home. Still, it’s a first for me. Dad is in a nursing home. Since the surgical procedure to insert a shunt back in December, Dad has been home for just a fraction of time.

There are a litany of health reasons why he is where he is. I share this because it has been tearing me up. Seeing him as he is has been tough. I want to reach out and hold him up, to give him all of my strength.

Tears stream down my face night after night. Why? Because it’s my Dad. It’s him sitting there. It’s the guy I couldn’t stand to be away from as a boy. Maybe I could walk, but still he’d carry me, because I was his boy, he could, and there was the love that parents know. He was the face I waited to see at the end of the day. The one who spoke and I listened like all other voices were a mere suggestion of sound. The punchline to the jokes that we still tell. The laughter to the soundtrack of life that we all live. Now, words are scarce.

It is him, and he sits there. I sit close. He knows I am there. I know it even if it’s not always so apparent. We visit if you call it that. I come and I go. He stays there. He weeps with dignity, wanting just to be home. He cries when I leave. I cry after I leave, and into the darkness of night. And in an emotional outburst I am currently trying unsuccessfully to self-contain, I write.

I count the time between motion and the command given

Age lets me question this, disability? or simply not driven?

 

I don’t think it hurts, but I see pain in those baby blues

Fumbling for the things that we don’t even remember to use

 

Why is it, we learn so late to appreciate these small things?

Maybe we need to remember the joy that the details bring

 

Health has failed a little more each time it has come calling

Strides get lost because, the standard, it’s always falling

 

I know where it ends, but where on the path are we?

Better to pray, to trust, I have not the mind to foresee

 

Time is, time goes, we sit quietly, trapped between our ears

What do you say when the only weight is in yesteryears?

 

Maybe tomorrow, it’ll be better that day, just because

Even so, I hide a sigh, it’s never better, better than it was

 

My mind can’t help looking past those eyes into the mirror

What’s to come gets closer but the view isn’t any clearer

 

Looking for the simplest signs, you need not walk a mile

Just turn up the corners, I know where to find that smile

 

God knew, delivering precision from an imperfect brain

Many a sermon, and the vision to preach words ordained

 

The words are locked away now, but their message lives

Cohesion is gone, but we know them by the clues he gives

 

It’s all there, gravity just fails to hold all of it in place

At times I see the freedom by what’s missing in his face

 

No matter the pain; in him, there is breath, there is life

I am just the boy, taking cues from my mom, his wife

 

My eyes close and there they are, not so far away

My lips don’t move but with all my might, I pray

 

There Is Love In Those Eyes

In short, my Dad is in a nursing home. There’s a litany of health reasons why he is where he is. I share this because it has been tearing me up. Tears stream down my face night after night. Why? Because it’s my Dad. It’s him sitting there. It’s the guy I couldn’t stand to be away from as a boy. Maybe I could walk, but still he’d carry me, because I was his boy, and there was love that parents know. He was the face I waited to see at the end of the day. The one who spoke and I listened like all other voices were a mere suggestion of sound. The punchline to the jokes that we still tell. The laughter to the soundtrack of life that we all live. It is him, and he sits there. He knows I am there. I know it even if it’s not always so apparent. We visit if you call it that. I come and I go. He stays there. He cries when I leave. I cry after I leave. And in an emotional outburst I am currently trying unsuccessfully to self-contain, I write.

 

There’s a hole in the floor, where he sits to stare

Something tells me though, there’s nothing there

 

His eyes come up to see the source of sound

They tell me he soars from this chair he’s bound

 

Windows show me their words but lips are still

The empty space in this room silence still does fill

 

All is calm but the hands holding on to His last words

Pages shake, memory frayed, the message not blurred

 

Heads are bowed but the prayers are for those here

Wide eyes tell stories long since past my own fears

 

Lips crack but there’s still no sound, I lean in though

A tear forms, and the quiet pause is all I need to know

 

Somewhere in the depths of blue, there’s a boy free

I would bring him back if it were only up to me

 

Connections are hard to make in this space, but we try

There’s sadness, and hurt, but there’s love in those eyes

 

Senses thrive when the focus narrows to just the one

Time expires today but I know our time’s never really done

 

I stare but I get lost in the visions where they used to be

I linger in hopes that progress has come down to me

 

Gentle like the sun’s arc rising to start each new day

A grin lights those eyes and for now, it’s all okay

 

I get up to leave, he stays, and he wonders why oh why

Away, but never gone, I sit too, I ponder, and I cry