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Greetings!
"Between our two lives, there is also the life of the cherry blossom."
~ Bashō Matsuo
I always thought of June as the month to honor our fathers and the important men in our lives. I was blessed to have had a wonderful father and maternal grandfather. My father died at the age of 71, younger than I am now. I know he was not ready to leave. There was so much more he wanted to see and do.
He dreamed of being a photographer, but that dream was interrupted by the outbreak of World War II. He dreamed of having a big family, but that dream changed when he married a woman, my mother, who only wanted a horse. He never became bitter about not being able to fulfill his dreams. He just went on the flow of life. People used to call him a 'happy-go-lucky' kind of guy.
He adored his family and grandchildren, but because he was an avid smoker for most of his life, his lungs eventually failed him. He died in 1991, a few years after my son was born. He was happy that I named my son after his brother Joshua, who had died.
Back then, many of us were not very health-conscious. He was not a healthy eater and ate many processed foods and deli meats. Still, he remained a happy man who was loved by all.
Here's a poem about him that will appear in my forthcoming poetry collection: Walking Myself Home: Haibuns & Haikus (Finishing Line Press, 2027).
A COLD DAY
Dad died on the first day of winter. I think he knew of his death long before my mother phoned to say we should visit. Husband, three kids, and I dashed up to New York from Florida. Two hours later, as he gasped for air from oxygen prongs, we tiptoed into his hospital room. His arms slung loosely over the siderails, I approached his bed. Unshaven with green eyes slowly opening, a smile flickered from his chapped lips. He tried to lift himself up to hug me and fell back down. My children, aged two, six, and eight, nudged closer. A tear fell on Dad’s unshaven cheek. I love you guys, he said with a barely audible whisper. I’m not well, he added, his head rolling back on the foamless pillow. I knew I was losing him.
roof icicles glisten
a window for spirits to leave
the heart’s good rhythm
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