MOURNING

           

        The room was crowded,
        somber, stale, dark.
    A wake?
    No Shiva!
        (and I'm not a jew).
    The widow's look at me,
        a question mark.
            I didn't know them or
                what I should do.   
    "And who are you?"
        I froze.
    "I'm Marty's boy."
        Then from the back,
    "Wait. Marty Fitch?
        That guy with Duct tape
            saved my life."
        I felt such joy.
            With back pats and hugs I stood.
        I thought I'd cry.
    He was a handy man
        who knew each tool.
            From holding things for him
                I'm sometimes deft.
            He wanted better things from me
                like school.
        I'm older now
            than he was when he left.
    I woke up feeling grateful,
            glowing.
         Glad I was his son,
        proud he was my dad.


 

Reviews

A wonderful piece. I like how it told about a slightly uncomfortable situation what was warmed by tender moments and memories. I agree with the last poster- A great tribute to your dad.

[Norma J. Jessee]

This is a beautifully written heartfelt tribute to your dad.
It touched me deeply.