OK. Fair warning: This is sappy.

I loved my dad. I lost him a little more than a year and a half ago. I was lucky, though. I had him 19 years more than mom. It was enough time for me to come to terms with our relationship. Enough time to understand him — or at least understand him better than I ever thought I would.

I’ve had a line running through my head for nearly 20 years to describe my relationship with him. Finally, I have found a way to take the phrase and make it something. I will use this short poem as the words/concept for an art piece to commemorate him.

Here are the words

Once a mountain, now a man,
My father stands in the doorway.
Eroded by age, bent by pain
Still, he seems tall before me.
The booming voice now whispers,
The mighty hands are twisted.
Though worn and bowed, he stands proud,
He, my father, I, his child.

 

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