Dear daddy, do you remember me?
Hey daddy, its Anna Marie
I'm 20 years older
I've grown a bit colder
No ribbons or lace
And a pout upon my face

Dear daddy, its Anna Marie
Hey daddy, do you even know me?
We've grown so far apart
We've hurt each other's hearts

I'm still your little girl
My mind is in a whirl
Dear daddy, its Anna Marie
Hey daddy, do you still love me?

It’s been another one of those nights; I’ve not slept.
Because of the memories and missing him, I’ve wept.
It’s been 15 months since our handsome son died;
I could end world drought for all the tears I’ve cried.
Even so, we’re doing well, and continuing to accept.

When I lay in bed staring up through the skylight,
I realize its a window to my visions of him tonight.
It’s like watching a movie as the boy becomes a man.
Then boom he’s gone! I’m trying to understand.
It’s become another day when I just have to write!

How I dread calling to my office to inform my boss
that I’m having to miss another day because of my loss.
I try not to let this happen often, lest his patience wears thin,
but once in a while my heart hurts so bad I cannot go in.
Sometimes I need to stop my world to bear my weeping cross.

Grief is not a bad thing. It helps us to alleviate the pain.
By allowing emotions to surface we keep ourselves sane.
I wish our son had known that and could have expressed
whatever was worrying him that made him depressed.
When did he loose perspective or feel his life was in vain?

Why didn’t he ask his father or me what we thought?
We were so proud of him and the love that be brought
along with him each step of his life as we watched him grow
into the charming, talented man, the man we loved so.
Never would we believe that his life was for naught.

My tears are not just for myself, but for all other mothers
who are bearing the same weeping cross as each one suffers
from missing her child no matter what his or her age.
We remember them as our babies and on comes the rage.
Hang on! Soon the rage passes and the pain defers.

My aching heart slowly settles down; and I cease to pace
when I reach for a photo and gaze upon his sweet face.
My heart is so full of love for my wonderful boy;
he was my first born and brought me immense joy.
All mother’s feel this joy. It’s what we embrace!

Now that Mothers’ Day is three days away; I must prepare
to show family that I’m fine with the loss that we share.
I am indeed fine, I just needed this short while to lament,
to regroup my mother’s heart, pent-up thoughts, and vent.
All mothers who lost children know the anguish we bear.

To you who lived through this, please have peace on Mother’s Day.
And, I pray that other family members help take your pain away.
We have lost our children but only for a little while you know,
because if you believe in the hereafter of any kind, you will too go
to the place where your child is waiting for you forever, unafraid.

They'd not interfere, the choices were yours, 
Proceed in YOUR WAY, but don't fall, 
If things went alright, they'd patiently wait, 
For you to remember to call. 

They fought out the teen years, when we were quite sure, 
That no one knew more than a teen, 
And guided us through our adulthood, careers, 
Marriages, kids......the whole scene. 

But let the day come when you needed their help, 
Before you could bat just one eye, 
They'd be there beside you, fight all the world off, 
If anyone DARED make you cry. 

And most of the time,busy struggling with life, 
Loving thoughts of them enter our heads, 
But before we can call to relay deepfelt love, 
We're off on a tangent instead. 

How do we thank them, these guardian angels? 
As time passes, we see what we've had, 
The saints hold no candle and heroes are weaklings, 
When compared with our Mom and our Dad. 

I guess we just hope their all-seeing existance, 
Sees through all our struggle and strife, 
And they know, though we don't find time to explain it, 
We owe them much more than our life. 

Yes, if one of MY children looks back on their life, 
I hope the day comes they can say, 
 "They stood there beside me whenever I needed, 
But still let me do it MY WAY." 

They'd not interfere, the choices were mine, 
Proceed in my way, but don't fall, 
If things went alright, they'd patiently wait, 
for me to remember to call. 

But let the day come when I needed their help, 
Before I could bat just one eye, 
They'd be there beside me, fight all the world off, 
If anyone DARED make me cry! 

How do I thank them, these guardian angels, 
As time passes, we see what we had, 
The saints hold no candle and heroes are weaklings, 
When compared to my mom and my dad!

I remember racing home before the street lights could come on, 
And cleaning house on Saturdays .... even before the Prom! 
And those great Thanksgiving dinners, where we all would sell our soul, 
For a seat at that basement table, next to the green bean casserole. 
                                                                                    * 
And Christimastime with cookies in suitboxes galore, 
And your beautiful beaded ornaments, Christmas Village on the floor, 
And the many times we tried, to duplicate your recipes, 
We'd ask for the ingredients and you'd rattle off with ease, 
                                                                                    * 
"A pinch of this, handful of that and cook it till it's done", 
Then laugh like hell, Because you knew, 
You'd confused us, everyone! 
                                                                                    * 
Yes, we shared times--both good and bad, 
That made us laugh and cry, 
Many hours we spent together, many more we let pass by. 
If I listen real close, I swear that I can hear, 
                                                                                    * 
"Weep no more, my little ones, Don't shed one more tear, 
For my pain has vanished,  And it's beautiful up here. 
Everywhere I look are angels, and family and friends, 
And I'm back with your father, Love and Kisses he does send." 
                                                                                    * 
Mom, all the times I wished to be, 
As good to you, as you to me, 
All the things you had to give, 
Shall stay with me -- long as I live, 
You felt the loss, you fought the pain, 
Now, by Dad's side, you've won the game. 
                                                                                    * 
You've made it where you longed to be, 
Up by his side for eternity, 
For Sixty years, he held your hand,
Now he holds it once again. 
                                                                                    * 
We miss you Mom and Daddy too, 
Not just us, but the grand kids too, 
Watch over us, as you used to do, 
And Know Forever, WE LOVE YOU 

Mending broken hearts and playthings, 
Nurse and cook and Best Friend too, 
God has angels up in Heaven, 
But here on earth, Mom, 
We have you! 

While sorting through 
their things the other day 
Wondering what to keep 
or throw away 
I thought of all those things 
I ought to say 
But I never did 

I know I should have 
told them how I cared 
It's too late now, 
I've lost my Mum and Dad 
I'll never tell them of 
the love we shared 
And no one knows 
how much I wish 
I had 

Heavenly Dream

Were those my babes, whose time was too brief?
Whose loss made my heart knotted in grief?
The ones growing within, whom I loved so much?
Those whom I was never able to touch?
Too short! Too short was each babies’ time,
Too short to feel them, and never be mine
To cherish, to nourish, and hold them dear,
So short, too short, the time they were here.

I never saw their dear little fingers,
Or held them close, though  desire lingers.
Never made eye contact, or heard them cry,
Never gave comfort, or little tears, dry.
Did God call my babes for His very own?
And  give me a glimpse of love He has shown?
Those joyous cherubs, I saw in my dream,
Showed Heavenly bliss, as never I’ve seen.

                     Flooding my thoughts those teenage years
                       were frustrations, anxieties and tears
                      he helped to guide and direct my ways
                      to find peace and comfort for my days.

                      A man of vision, wisdom and originality
                         his ways spoke volumns to me.
                  Many lessons I learned of character and integrity
                        by the way he lived for me to see.

                        Hair of gray now crowns his head
                         as he lay weakened upon his bed
                         How grateful I am to God above,
                    for sharing His light through my dad's love.

                    As birds of flight released from deep inside
                       burst forth the words of truth and life
                       to reveal the strength in my dad's soul
                     much needed guidance for my life's role.

                         A small part of mystery unfolds
                       of our Saviour's great love to behold
               because from my father's depths show forth the beauty
                       to signify the Master's ultimate glory.

My first memory, at age of four,
Was my dad and I at the door
Of a wonderful big white house in L.A.
Where ‘till the age of seven I would stay.
There was a “mom”, but not to me,
My life was lived in mystery.

Dad suddenly took me away,
I had a new “mom” from that day.
She was a fine mother, to the family
I’m so thankful I had her to care for me.
Questions I had were deemed taboo,
My birth mystery grew and grew.

I don’t expect I’ll ever know,
Why dad took me so long ago’
As a babe in arms, only one month old,
To California, I have never been told.
I’ve searched records hoping to find
Mystery’s answer-peace of mind.

I still have hopes, they’re fading fast
Because they come from distant past.
I will keep looking ‘till the end of my time,
Possibly in Heaven, my answer I’ll find,
I know my mother’s gone from me.
Who can solve my life’s mystery?

I WISH I KNEW YOU, DAD

The good old days, the hard old ways,
the troubles that we shared.
With humour thin, we’d laugh and grin
on days when we were spared.

For the tyrant had her willful way –
our minds were not our own,
with rules laid down, we both would frown
and wear it to the bone.

A shattered life, a torrid wife,
a mother as hard as nails.
She ruled the nest (her soul be blessed)
and carved us hardened trails.

A fatherly relationship
was cruelled from early days.
We had no fun like dad and son –
we bowed to her waspish ways.

This life we knew; could we undo
those early years when just a lad?
If not for love of peace and quiet,
I wish I knew you – Dad!

To My Daughters: 

Now, you act like you're my mother,
And I've become a child to you.
I'm not sure when it happened.
Maybe when I was 82.???

I appreciate your caring
And all the nice things you all do,
But let's not overdo the caring
By telling me just what to do.

Just because I'm old,
Doesn't mean I've lost my brain,
And don't know enough 
To come in out of the rain.

So, if the time comes when I 
Can no longer run the show,
When I can't make decisions,
I'll  be the first to know.

When I can't tell the difference
Between the remote and my cell phone,
You can call those men in white
To haul me to the  old age home.

GOD’LL GET YA!

        On the Religious side, our Mother was reared a Catholic lass,
        and believed in God and Mary, the Priests and Nuns and Mass.
        On Sunday mornings to Church we’d go, in little suits of grey,
        with Rosary beads and Missal — we’d get bashed until we prayed.

        She shocked the living daylights from the Devil in our souls,
        and made us firm believers in that Heaven was our goal.
        The fear of God so planted was a worry on our minds,
        we walked the straight and narrow — never waivered from that line.

        We tried our best to do things right, avoided doing wrong,
        but Mother soon found fault with me before too very long.
        The wood was all cut oversize, the chips — there weren’t enough!
        The chooks weren’t fed, the calf not in —  life was pretty tough.

        Should I but think to cheek her, she would read my very thoughts,
        and cuff my ears before I’d duck and fire sharp retorts.
        “You no good little heathen! Don’t dare you spite on me!
        God will make you sorry now, you just wait and see.”

        God will make me sorry. I’d heard that many times.
        The Nun at School had said the same for writing crooked lines.
        God will make me sorry? I was doing my best to please!
        She even thumped my crooked back whilst down on bended knees.

        She’d bash and thump and wack and cane, and then —
        declare she’d turn us little terrors into Christian gentlemen.
        And I’d think, ‘If God don’t get me!’ — and then she’d read my mind,
        and bash and wack and thump and cane my legs and fat behind.

        God will get you. God will make you sorry.
        As a lad my life was burdened by this  single worry.
        And God, He used to get me,     many times in fact,
        and Mother was always there indeed      to see this Holy Act.

        A bloodied fall, a splintered hand, a kick from a milking cow —
        this was the wrath of the Lord acting upon me now.
        He was paying me back, so Mother said, for all that I’d done wrong.
        “That’s what God does to ya!” Would come her fearful song.

        Then she’d clip me round the ears for things I had not done.
        “You lazy no-good useless boy! You worthless rotten son!”
        And sure as eggs, you guessed it, again her threat I heard,
        “God’ll get ya, ’pon my soul,   you mark my very word!”

        Now talking to the Publics was another grievous sin.
        To even think of doing so would bring us grief within.
        Only Catholics go to Heaven, if their souls are pure and white.
        So ‘love thy Lord and heed His word — with all your little might.’

        So I chucked stones at the Publics, and they shied rocks at me,
        and called me Connie-wacker for no reason that I could see.
        We called each other names, and we cursed across the street.
        We hurled abuse and chucked more rocks ’til each of us was beat.

        Then when I’d sought my own abode, ’twas strange then to discover
        that news of the Catholic-Public war had beaten me home to Mother.
        How did she know? How could she know? ’Twas that little bird that told her!
        But still I thought that she’d be proud of me, her little Christian
soldier.

        No pride was shown — no joy at all! It didn’t even please her!
        I’d made a silly fool of her, and no words would appease her.
        I’d brought shame upon the family! I’d disgraced the Nuns as well,
        and God would surely get me — I was fully damned to Hell.

        Now Mother’s gone to Heaven — I’m sure that she’s up there,
        ’Twas where she was aiming for with all her daily prayer.
        And I’m still here, and still in strife, my life’s not trouble free.
        With lots of help from Mother, I’m sure that God’s still getting me!

Call Your Mom 

You figure she'll be there
so you don't take the time
To call her up
And ask if she's fine

Remember last week?
well it's in the past
You can't bring it back
and didn't it go fast?

Have you seen her lately?
and did you know?
She's getting older
and it's starting to show

Yes time marches on
it waits for no man
So why not call her
now while you can

You know she loves you
It's in her voice
So go ahead 
Make the right choice!

A REPRIEVE FROM MY JOURNEY
RICH INTERLUDE  OF COOL FLAVORS
ON THAT OPPRESSIVE HOT  MAY AFTERNOON

HEALING FROM FIRST BITE
SOOTHING  SALVATION
COOLING EVEN THE SOUL

COURAGE IN A WAFFLE
REFRESHMENT FOR SURVIVORS
REFOCUSING ON GOALS

A MOTHER’S DAY TREAT!
A GIFT
I CAN & I WILL!

She gave me firm knees, a loving heart and a quick mind.
Constantly pointed out the good things, not ones unkind.
Her arms were a refuge where I could go for protection.
Warmed me in a blanket of affection.
Wouldn't let unkind words of careless, thoughtless
     actions hurt me.
In spite of my frustrations and impatience 
helped make a way for me to see.
Mother, gave me encouragement and made me 
     hang on to my dreams.
I have never forsaken my mother's teachings,
     DON'T GIVE UP
     BE PATIENT
     LIFE IS NEVER AS BAD AS IT SEEMS.
My life will be free from sorrow, toil and pain,
For mother's perfect love, in my heart will always reign.
From sin I will be free.
I'll have her wisdom with me through all eternity.

When you were five
and scared to go to school...
Who was there
to teach you the golden rule?

When you were eight
and playing baseball...
Who was at the games
cheering loudest of all?

When you were twelve
and girls looked so fine...
Who was there
to teach you to be kind?

When you were sixteen
and a car was everything...
Who taught you to drive
and gave you your own keyring?

When you turned eighteen
and boy! what an age...
Who taught you
to keep a clean history page?

Who's been there
through thick and thin...
Who's watched over you
since way back when?

If it wasn't your dad
like it is for some...
Who loved you so much
Could it have been your mom?

So now you're grown
and know life isn't fair...
When was the last time
you showed mom YOU care?

I'll never see the love she freely gave, 
Except within the store of memory,
But, in that store, I'll treasure and I'll save,
Until I meet her in eternity.

I knew that, someday, she would die;
She could not, on the earth, forever, stay.
In pain and anguish, now, I cry,
For, today, my mother left and went away.

She had truly suffered, in her body, frail,
Yet few words of complaint did she say.
No longer does she walk this earthly trail
But took her leave and went to heaven today.

Her face is peaceful, now; no pain
Is felt to mar it's sweet repose,
And, though I shall not see her face again,
In my mind I shall see it as a lovely rose.

How I'd love to see her just once more,
To clasp her warm and gnarled hand,
But, since I can't, oh LORD, I now implore,
Grant my prayer to meet her in that heavenly land.

Sometimes a thought will come to mind;
It is something I feel I should tell mom.
But mom isn’t there, so I’ll have to find
Something else to keep my mind calm.

It’s been 18 years since she passed away.
You’d think I’d be over it by this time.
But let me hasten, a kind word to say,
“To forget my mother would be out of rhyme”.

   MY MIS-UNDERSTOOD DAD

Depression came in twenty nine,
And, doing somewhat less than fine
Dad felt compelled to leave our home;
In search of work he knew he must roam.

Leaving Arkansas, he traveled north,
To prove his mettle, to prove his worth.
Michigan saw his arrival there,
In search of work, just anywhere.

He was forced to leave his family,
Wife and three children, including me.
Those memories, for me, remain no more,
For I was at the tender age of four.

He soon found employment, though pay was meager;
To provide for his family he was eager.
And, from his very meager dole
He sent just enough to keep body and soul.

Only through letters I heard of him, then,
So, memories continued to be very thin.
When I was almost eleven, in he strode,
Carrying his bag down the country road.

I found my anger difficult to smother
For, in came this stranger kissing my mother.
I was almost to short to strike his chin
So I almost planted my foot on his shin.

When mom introduced him as my dad
I quickly forgot my troublesome "mad",
But he was still a stranger, don't you see,
And getting close was difficult for me.

His vacation was short and he had to leave,
Causing mom, once more, to sadly grieve.
We weren't reunited for another three years
To conclude the loneliness, heartaches and tears.

In nineteen forty, when I was fifteen,
'Twas the brightest year I'd ever seen.
'Twas the finest year I'd ever had,
We moved to Michigan to be with my dad.

But it seemed with high school I was so busy,
With that and odd jobs, the pace was dizzy.
It seemed there was no time for us to share,
Nor a way to tell him I'd grown to care.

One year later, our country was at war;
Though only sixteen, my time was not far.
I graduated from school in forty three
And set out to help keep my country free.

About that time, I'm not sure just when
My mother had cleansed her soul from sin.
He had shown to her the necessity
Of serving Christ, and Christianity.

In forty seven, I was released;
The same month I married, to say the least.
I moved away to make my own home;
Getting close to dad was never to come.

But, during that time, I'm happy to say
He helped me find Christ, the light of my way.
I became a christian, as well as my wife,
Giving us a start on a grand, new life.

Visits, at times, through the years,
Sharing a few laughs as well as some tears,
Bringing him grandchildren, a girl, and three boys,
Trying never to grieve, but to bring only joys.

Of all of those years, it seems to me,
We've not been together as many as three,
And, though I've tried, in my backward way,
"I love you" has been very hard to say.

I mis-understood, when he was a stranger,
I thought my mom and my home were in danger.
Not having him with me in those formative years,
Held me aloof in my joys and my fears.

Age and maturity did finally erase
Most of the loneliness I'd had to face,
Through my childhood, adolescence and youth,
Until maturity and aging truth.

My sister once told me, though my name is L. B.,
His favorite name was "Little Boy", for me.
And, oh, that as I grew, we had shared
More time in knowing that he had cared.

And so, I want him, now, to know,
Though still it's difficult to show,
That, as my parent, I'm very glad
To tell someone, "that's my dad".

His life consisted of ninety two years;
Sixty four of those with my mother.
Together they had faced many tears
By caring for one another.

At the time of her death ten years ago
His life had effectively ended.
He yearned to leave this world, below,
And, with her soul, to be blended.

They may not recognize each other in spirit,
Be that however as it may;
The voice of the master--they will hear it
As they inherit eternal day.

Mom has been dead for over ten years,
And that caused the shedding of sorrow's tears
Yet it seems as if she still should be
Standing at the door to welcome me.

Now that papa has gone away, too,
Will this feeling remain to keep me blue?
Or, now that he's gone to be with her,
Will their being together my peace assure?

We'd had them both so very long;
Their being "around" just seemed to belong.
Now, both are gone. Life can't be the same.
But to wish them back would be a shame.

For they had lived long and useful lives,
(That's how, in this world, one usually survives)
But with their aging also came pain;
We could not wish them back again.

Logic tells us that "this is best",
Since both have gone to eternal rest,
But none-the-less, and not for me only,
Their passing leaves loved ones sad and lonely.

Parent of a Teen

A Tribute to my Parents

Several years after his first wife died,
Wed then to my mother was he.
And long before I was born, she became
An instant mother of three.

She raised all four, then me alone,
When my siblings went away.
She focused her love on me, and I learned
Many things I remember today.

My father was ailing for most of his life,
He was cursed with very poor health,
And not one cent had he when he died.
He left no material wealth.

I loved my father, and he loved me.
He was passive, though, I would say.
I was spoiled and indulged by my mother,
And he let her have her way.

My parents both taught me true values of life,
The difference between right and wrong.
They expressed and lived their faith in God,
And I just went along

Like so many youth, I oft tended to stray,
And seemed to be lacking a goal.
But as older I grew, the truths that they taught-
I found they were etched in my soul.

Both of my parents have now been long gone,
My children to adults have grown.
And the same seeds of values, of faith and of truth
With my children have all now been sown.

This legacy left by my parents to me
Is the legacy I shall pass on
To my children and hope that they feel the same
About me long after I'm gone.
-- 

MY PARENTS 

        My father worked three jobs a week, my mother’s job fulltime 
    The six of us, with love we grew, were happy all the time
    Finding joy in simple things, though poor, we knew that not
    Happy with our cuddles and little things we got

     Parents are so wonderful, for granted they we take
    Not knowing all the sacrifice that each of them does make
    Then we grow to find a life away from home that’s true
    Finding that to live this life is hard and something new

    What must they feel when time we leave as both of they did do?
    Tears might fill a well of pain, but shared with only few
    Parents after years of love, watch siblings move away
    Most to seldom see again from month, to day to day

    Let us not forget them, lets tell them of our love
    Lets pray for them each time we speak to God up there above
    That life for them holds happiness and all good there can be
    That they may see their siblings live, happily and free

    Thank you every parent for being ever there
    Thank you mum and thank you dad for giving all your care
    Thanks for all my childhood, I loved the every year
    Thanks for all the good times, I truly hold them dear

Margaret's Mother 

Whose days and nights are like a sweet bell rung,
She reaches  out, you know she will be there.
Her life has chorused in a song well sung.
Her presence lifts and comforts, makes you care.

Intuitive, perceptive eyes are blue.
Her manner, one of eager joy and grace.
Her stories tell of busy days she knew, 
The halls and tiring stairways she has trod,
No indication of this in her face.
This Mother has been tailor-made by God!

To My Husband on Father's Day

Thank you for understanding,
They're too old, set in their ways,
To accept you as their father,
(You've never heard real praise)

Thank you for understanding,
Looking over impudence,
Hearing rude, hurtful remarks,
And not taking offense.

Knowing that it's not their norm,
They're really loving kids,
Waiting for them to come around,
In patience, you outdid.

And tho they're grown, you think of them,
As often as I do,
With loving thoughts, of what they'd like,
Or what they'd like to do.

And there's no prouder grandpa,
Our granddaughters love you so,
That when they call upon the phone,
"Where's Grandpa?" they want to know.

Yes, as "they" and "we" grow older,
We've all come to agree,
You're good for Mom, care for the kids,
And as Grandpa... YOU'RE SUPREME!

        But dad's not there to answer me.
        I've never known or even met him.
        But, since my age is only three
        There'll be no reason to forget him.

Sometimes I wonder if I'll ever know
Since I've never met him before;
My mother thinks he'll never show--
And now, I've just turned four.

        I guess he never loved me
        For he never gave me his name.
        He must have only been on a spree
        And has no feeling of guilt or shame.

He must not care that I was born,
Nor care that I'm alive.
I feel unwanted and forlorn--
And now my age is five.

        My mother has tried to find him
        But, at hiding his trail, he has many tricks.
        He's able to close ev'ry door behind him--
        And now I've reached the age of six.

Years have passed and still no dad.
Now I'm graduating from high school.
Will I, as him, become a cad?
Be nothing but an unloving fool?

        I guess that I will never learn
        From him, how to be a father.
        Will I, my family duties spurn?
        Will I consider them too much bother?

What is my fate? Will I be as him?
Or, will I learn to be a loving dad?
Will my life turn out as grim?
Will I leave a child to be sad?