The man who is half of me
Is a ghost of my past.
As a girl just shy of three,
I didn’t understand
Cheating, adultery, infidelity.
He married again,
And created another family,
He planned a visit one weekend,
But this girl of five was too scared to leave mommy.
I didn’t know there wouldn’t be another invitation.
He sent something Holly Hobbie
For every birthday and Christmas.
I blamed his absence on me
And hated his obligatory gifts-
If only I hadn’t been such a baby….
I first met my Dad,
When I was a girl of three.
I’m told I thought he was a handsome man,
Mom found my “googly” stares embarrassing.
(When children tag along on a date, that happens :))
My Dad, a man of twenty-three,
Fell in love, and married, a woman with two kids-
My brother, four years older- and me.
(Two kids he later legally adopted;
It made it official, but he was always “Dad” to me.)
He was the muscle behind Mom’s “mad,”
He sprouted gray hair through my teens,
He tried his best to help me with math,
He walked me down the aisle at my wedding-
He is, and always will be, my Dad.
I’ve had two earthly fathers,
But only one Dad.
He is the answer to prayers
I was too young to have.
Today, I thank God for the blessing of Dad.
I’d like to wish all the dads (and those of us who’ve loved a Dad) a happy Father’s Day: