The Grandfather You'll Never Know

I remember how I cried
The day my father died.
The doctor laid the blame
When he said that cancer came:
Lymph nodes, lungs,
Philosophy of Carl Jung,
Words of explanation
For everything, no blame.

The service was long,
And I tried to be strong.
The stench of red carnations
Still fills my imagination,
People’s faces,
Words of the Lord’s graces
Now planted in a lawn,
For the shell of this world is gone,
Yoked into heavenly bliss.
When I think of him
There's so much we missed.

I remember how I’ve sighed,
Thinking of my dad with pride.
I’d sit on his knee
My ear to his chest,listening to him hum,
And he’d give me his pennies for free.
He would mow, I’d sweep,
And then we’d have a snow cone treat.
Poles, bait bucket, tackle box,
Days we spent fishing from piers and docks.

Hair black like Elvis’,
Ears and features like Clark Gable’s,
Loud animated stories
Of his oil company job,
At the dinner table.
Fedora, big pleated trousers,
A pocket watch on a chain,
When I close my eyes
I can see him again.

I look in the mirror and see his eyes,
Staring back at me in eternal guise.
He didn’t live on to see me grown,
Or help me with the problems I’ve known.
But his gifts of life, and his gifts
Of love
Are still here on earth with me,
Angelically guarding and guiding
Forever through our family's journey
Of love.