Memories of Daddy

"Daddy, can we go outside?"

From above, brown eyes smile down at me. "Sure, get your coat." His rough hand engulfs mine; together we'll learn about the world in our backyard.

Fine memories like these helped my heart heal in the long years since his death, but the pain never leaves. I miss him even now.

Starr Rathburn
Written for the "55 words" contest.

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

I couldn't remember the words I'd wanted to say. This would be my last chance to talk to him, to tell him how I felt, and yet the words wouldn't come. I could feel the emotions behind my heart, fighting to come out, and yet I remained silent.

A feeling of unreality smothered me as I gazed down into the coffin where my dad lay. I'd never seen him so quiet, without his smile and the crinkles around his warm brown eyes. I wanted to touch him but couldn't at first, but eventually I was able to touch the warm brown fleece vest that he wore so often. It was soft and almost warm to the touch, but I knew it was a lie. As tears flowed, I leaned forward and whispered the only words I could say: "I love you Dad. I miss you already."

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

Haiku I wrote for my dad that appeared in
USAToday online, 2002:

Aug. 9: Paint

Sweet memories of
when splatters of paint were left
on my father's hands.

-- Starr Rathburn
Written for
http://www.usatoday.com/life/books/2002-08-poetry.htm

Thank-you, my friend Nikkii for the awardicon. What you said touched my heart.

It's about the pain of death tempered with the joy of cherished memories. - Dreamer