my hero's cape was the transparent kind and to me, it was enormous it wrapped around me tenfold, embracing my shortcomings on the days I needed magic (with his prompting) enchanted sanctuaries I’d find rapturous, idolizing, without seeing in him a fault...
But he left before the fax machine
became an essential practicality
before CD-ROM for computers,
CDs, DVDs, and JPEG
Of digital cameras
he knew– no nuthin’
of the Discman, the iPod,
photoshopping– clueless!
GPS/the WORLD WIDE WEB
Google/Smartphones/e-mail?
These might sound to him like riddles,
but today, they are a given
I woulda love to have video-chatted
instructed him in tech-lingo
he’d be just another grandad
never to be in limbo
he woulda loved watching musicals
on my flat-screen boob tube;
learned about TheWi-Fi,
TheFacebook, TheTwitter, & YouTube
the roles woulda been reversed
as with patience, I’d have taught him
of all those things for functionality,
that technology fitted us to the brim
I’d have talked,
he’d have listened
I’d have instructed,
he’d have learned…
But of the things far more important,
presenting him to my darling husband
my proudest moment
that woulda been grand
and my babies– just to have held them
while sniffing their little heads
what joy it woulda brought me
had he seen them turning into little men
— he was called before the fax machine
became an item of practicalism
but his little girl never has forgotten
how to love, laugh, dream & celebrate
under the cape of life’s realism
***
© 2021 selmamartin.com
“Old as she was,
she still missed her
daddy sometimes.”~ Gloria Naylor
BrainyQuotes, Gloria Naylor
Happy Birthday to my daddy, who’s still snug safely in my heart, and to who I dedicate this poem around All Hallows’ Eve when we remember our loved ones, including
saints (hallows), and all the departed.
***
And at Earthweal this week, they’re talking Samhain where Sarah Connor says:
"The word "guest" and the word "ghost" both come from the German word geist-- a spirit invited to join the feasting on the Day of the Dead. That says to me that we can open our arms and our hearts to the uncomfortable and the uncanny. We can accept the dark gifts they bring-- introspection, reflection, mourning, the discomfort of rebirth. "So for this Samhain, perhaps you could think about what you have lost—willingly or unwillingly? "The festival of the dead. A time when the living leave their doors open for their dead— ..."
Thanks, Sarah. For this Samhain, I already told you about my mother and her miracle, so today, I tell you about my daddy: the two people I celebrate at this time.
My daddy turned 57 in October of ’84 and hardly a month later suffered a massive heart attack that sent him into that final good night. I was very young when that happened and thought of my father as very old. But then I arrived at 57 and gasped, realizing how wrong I was back then and how lucky I am to have crossed over the thresholds my father never completed.
Like global warming, none of the listed items in the poem would have been topics of conversation (in my country) when he was alive. So, in reality, he missed nothing; it is I who missed having him around.
Life unfolds as we live it, and I cannot wait to find out more of its magic.
Happy celebrating, happy Samhain, and as always, I wish you miracles.
Piggyback riding with my hero – Image by Mabel Amber from Pixabay
- Day 18: NaPoWriMo 2024–in my next life let me be a dust moat - April 18, 2024
- Day 17: NaPoWriMo 2024–Total Eclipse of The Heart - April 17, 2024
- Day 16: NaPoWriMo 2024–The Surprise Ending - April 16, 2024
Beautifully worded. Happy birthday to your father.
Aww. Thanks., my sweet. xoxo
I could completely relate with this heartfelt piece, Selma. I often find myself imagining what my Father would think of new technology . “So, in reality, he missed nothing; it is I who missed having him around.” These lines weren’t a part of the poem but really touched me. Thanks so much for sharing .💕
So glad to receive this message from you. So glad that line spoke to you. It’s my greatest pleasure to find you here, Grace. Thank you. Be well, my sweet
My pleasure, dear Selma. I am happy to have found you here as well.💕❤️💕
So heartwarming and beautiful! A wonderful tribute to your father, Selma.
Thanks, I’m so glad you read and commenting. Glad too that it touched you. Be well, my sweets. 😘 🤗
You are so welcome. 🤗❤️
What a wonderful celebration of a life obviously well lived. (K)
Life’s worth celebrating no matter how ordinary. I’m so glad you read, (K) I appreciate the comment. Stay lovely. I wish you miracles.
Thanks Selma.
What an absolutely wonderful tribute to your dear departed grandad, Selma! ‘He left before the fax machine’ – this really fixes his life in finite time, but the lessons he taught you were eternal ❤️
Hi, Ingrid. I’m so pleased with your comment. Yes, lessons that have lived through time. Thanks for reading, my sweets. Stay safe. I bless you.
You as well Selma ❤️
Such a beautiful poem. I smiled at all the new things you would have introduced him to, choked up at the thought of those fuzzy baby heads he didnt get to sniff. How fortunate you were to have had such a father, such parents. How sad to lose him so young.
Yes, way too young indeed. Glad (in a good way) this short poem did all that to you. You really read and I’m honored. Thanks so very much, Sherry. I appreciate the encouragement. Be well. I wish you miracles.
57 is so young (I’m 56!) – I love this tribute to your daddy, so full of love. I can feel the sorrow AND the joy – perfect for this time. Thank you.
Agreed. Way too young. Glad you felt moved to leave a message. I’m so grateful. Thanks so much. Be safe. I bless you.
This is a lovely tribute. On All Hollows and always, may memories of your father nurture you.
Myrna, how sweet of you to read and to say that to me. Memories are forever. I hope you have similar ones to nurture you every day. Be well. I’m thrilled to find your message here. Thanks. I wish you miracles.
Thank you for this moving tribute and reminding me that I dreamed about my father this morning.
Oh you did? Oh I did? Wow. So cool.
That’s your dad’s way of connecting with you. Lovely. Be well.
Thanks. I hope you stay well, too.
Beautiful, Selma. I love it. ❤️
、(*´∀`)♪ 。。。ヾ(๑╹◡╹)ﾉ”
Oh, this is just precious! Your dad would have loved to hold his grandkids, see you grow into a wonderful woman and see the world change drastically. Loved your poetical dedication to him. It is too sweet and so full of love and I’m sure he’s smiling at you from the abodes above. “Our dead aren’t truly dead until we have forgotten them.” They say. He’s still happily watching you and his descendants with so much joy 🙂 Happy birthday to him! 🤍 So loved your poem and I’m sure dad did, too. 😊💖
so very true, Sam– a vital lesson to remember. No one is dead until we forget them. So in our lifetime, we want to do unforgettable acts. Lest we stay buried forever. Thanks for the celebratory greeting to him. Your words put me in a happy place. Stay sweet, young lady. Sending you virtual hugs from across the miles. xo
Selma, What a heart warming tribute.
Thank you for sharing part of what you felt for him.
Love, Ann❤
The pleasure is mine: you read and enjoyed and that’s plenty, Ann. Thanks so much.
At Samhain those we have lost come close, crossing the threshold from memory to presence. Your father seems so close here; poetry for me is an exercise in reaching, like prayer. Opening those doors.
An exercise in reaching— Like a prayer. How very cool.
And you pen that beautifully. I know I saw the prayer in your recent work. Thanks for visiting. Such an honor.
I bless you.
A very lovely remembrance and tribute to your father Selma. It’s clear through your words that your love and joy still shine, radiate for him, even for the bittersweet grief of losing him when very young and him not being actively present for so many milestones in your life. But perhaps, in some ways, he was and still is with you, yes? That’s certainly the feeling you show and I think, live. It’s clear that he, with your mother, live very fully in your heart – and that’s just a beautiful thing. 🙂
Oh yes, I think he oversaw everything that was important to me. He might have even participated in some way or other. I believe this.
I’m glad you came to read. Love finding you here. I appreciate the support. Be well, sweetie. I wish you miracles.
I’m 56 years old and have several chronic health problems that I take care of as well as I’m able considering that I have a high degree of distrust for medical people.
My paternal grandfather was 64 years old when he passed away from cardiac arrest.
My father had a major hemorrhagic stroke at 68 and died at 74. He developed vascular dementia and congestive heart failure.
My mother’s in decent health for someone in her 80s.
I’d prefer to take after my mother health-wise but I’ve tried not to emulate the way she treats her family members. She isn’t exactly abusive, but she’s very judgmental and doesn’t hesitate to make her unsolicited opinions known.
Hi, Reader. I’m sorry to know all this. You’re very young to have those health problems and old enough (no insult intended) to know how to take care of your health. Your gut knows, right?
Sometimes those in our lineage serve as great examples of how to discern trigger points. We carry their genes but that doesn’t mean we’ll end up like them. Health or behavior-wise. We know better. And I trust you’re fine with the choices you’ve made in your one and wonderful life.
I’m so glad you dropped in to read and comment. Know that you’re not alone and that the right choice always lies with you (and your gut)😊
Please take care of yourself, dear Reader. I’d like to see you again— You’re welcome here. Perhaps we can help each other naturally, somehow. Thank you. Be well. I wish you miracles.
This is beautiful Selma <3
Oh, my, so glad you read and found it so. Thanks.
Words on a wind across the ether to the father you did not get to be with. The message is so touching that he will have no doubt felt the vibration and, I am sure, will have penned a ghosted reply, that you will, if you listen carefully, catch on that same wind.
Aww, Paul. Thanks so sincerely for reading this one that’s so close to my heart.
I know exactly what you mean: I’m sure he already knew all this and enjoyed what came of the penned words. I did receive a reply by ‘wind-mail’ 😀 just like you said. Always do.
So glad for this comment. It warms my heart. Thanks so much. Stay lovely.
A lovely rememberan and tribute your father Selma. It’s clear your words that your love and joy still. So sad but what can do. Pray to God. Iam so imonational.
You bless me with your comment, Raj. Thanks for the visit. xo
H’w r u?
Selma. Thanks lot.
♥️ 👏
Thank you so much for sharing this to me Selma. I am feeling all the love that you have for your father. And structure wise i love how you wrote this poem. The thought flow, the idea, and the comparison of then and now. This is brilliant.
My dad too had a cardiac arrest sending him to heaven only at 59. I was in my early 30’s then.
This is a beautiful and heartwarming piece, Selma, but so sad that you lost your dear father so soon in his life. 57 is no age for that to happen, and it must have been so painful and distressing to lose him so young. However, I’m glad you have him tucked safely in your heart and that you have such fond memories of him. Memories stay with us forever. I’m sure he would have adored your children. He sounded like a delightful and loving husband and papa. My father died ten years ago, but, to be honest, he wasn’t a nice man. He could be cruel and unkind and always put himself first despite having four girls to bring up. My beloved Mum raised us more or less single-handedly. Father’s Day is a strange date for me. It always is. I think of him but have no fond memories to keep in my heart … just wishes that it could have been different. Time is a great healer. I’m sad but no longer bitter. Love to you dear Selma xxx ❤💛💚💕