With Fathers’ Day approaching, it seems apt to share a poem about my Dad. It would be easy with his progressing dementia and recent illness to post something about struggle. But I’d rather go with hope today:
When I was younger
We always knew when my father was happy
Because he hummed to himself.
He was unaware
But his contentment could not be contained
And spilled out in sound.
We would smile, knowingly,
At each other
But say nothing,
Just happy that he was happy.
He hums less these days
His mind preoccupied with recurring thoughts
Chasing elusive memories
Like a dog after his tail.
We repeat answers to his repeated questions
Pretending each time is the first
Sharing the seeping loss of him.
But his grandson sings unknowingly
An unconscious inheritance
Reminding us of happiness
And we still smile.