I
hardly got to know you; then you were gone.
I
was barely 16 when you passed on,
and
time, it just moves right along.
Your
photo album fell apart,
this
is where this story starts --
as
I put it back together, this is what I found:
You
were a child like any other
with
a father and a mother
and
a pretty large family—
four
sisters and four brothers
and
there were two others
that
barely lived past infancy.
Just
a small town lad,
more
good than bad--
not
so different than my own son.
You
were a natural musician
and
had an inclination
to
kid around and have fun.
 |
| My dad, bottom, about 23 yrs. old. |
When
World War II came,
you
volunteered your name--
Army
Air Corp was now your career.
You
learned how to fly,
off
to Burma, the C.B.I.
Wonder
how you handled fear?
Back
to your home town
you
returned to settle down,
married
someone you’d always known.
At
thirty-four I arrived,
the
“twinkle in your eye”…
at
forty-one my mom was gone.
You
did your best by me
the
two of us were family--
we
always had enough.
From
the life we shared
I knew
you cared --
you
raised me strong and tough.
Though
I hardly knew you well,
and
you never got to tell
all
the stories that I wish I knew--
I
see your legacy living on
in
your grown grandson--
he’s so very much like you.
He
has creative inclinations,
music
skipped a generation
and
jumped from you to him.
And
it should come as no surprise
that
I see you in his eyes --
You’re
so very much the same.
You
were a friend and a brother,
husband to my mother
but
in photos no one can see --
for
the brief time we had
you
were such a good dad --
and
will always be special to me.
Copyright
© Ginny Brannan May 2010
 |
| My dad and me, July 1972 (last photo together) |
