Remember

Remember

I'll never forget our last
Father's Day with my Dad.
He was in the middle stages
of a disease that stole
memories of his mind.
He was in a wheelchair after
a fall that left him with a sore hip.
He rarely spoke because of a
stroke that made his speech aberrant.

Our backyard was just a stone's throw
from a path to the beach
that the family had walked down many times.
The grass had just been cut.
Flowers in my garden
drooped due to lack of rain.
And the kids were laughing at
the way a beach ball bounced
after they hit it with their heads.

The midday meal was
just put on to cook.
The smell of baked beans
and barbecue was
beginning to float through
the air. Inside the house
the table was set for six people.
This was to be a day
of love for the men
who went above and
beyond to guide us through
the tough times.

After we ate, we all went to the beach
where the gulls swooped
down to pick up food.
Dolphins were playing
at a distance.
We stopped to watch
the clouds drift by.
All seemed so peaceful.
Then in a distance appeared
a small sailboat.
The crew waved to us.
My father then waved his
hand and said, as clear
as a a bell, "That's
my barque, Marjorie.
Named for my wife. She's gone."
And late last night, my father
joined her.