Dear Dad, No matter how many times I’ve written the poem it always seems to start out the same way.
Maybe its the alliteration that I find awfully fancy for a poem of mine or maybe its the soft sound that it makes when it escapes my lips as it reminds me of the softness that always seemed to be buried in your heart.
Either way its always the same.
The variations have come out in a million different ways in a million different forms,
Ever changing as grown-ups around me paint the image of the man that you may have been, non of them told you as i knew you.
My hand has written in sadness, in anger in frustration and unknowing but it never felt right the timing always off.
Now, my hand is spurred in admiration and love it finally feels right.
Dear Dad I can’t imagine the hurt of not seeing two daughters grow up.
catching only glimmers of time from a distance story, knowing only that they were safe, leaving you forever catching updates from an ever so Loveing Nanna.
Dear Dad. I missed you. I missed growing up. I missed my dad.
Always in the back of my mind you hung like a picture framed above a mantle piece watching over and protecting from afar.
A comfort came from knowing your face, theres a picture in a old photo album in the cupboard. of you in green and white kneeling by my buggy proud of the tiny creation that wailed before you.
That image of you the smiling man in a celtic shirt is ingrained into my bones just as deep as Celtic runs in my blood.
Dear Dad. I’ve always upheld a love for celtic. Out of respect for the fact thats it was one of the few things I remembered of you along with the teams emblem once etched into your arm.
Almost like a religion I held on to it, protecting it, nourishing in, letting it flourish, and bloom.
I'd catch the game results in the papers I delivered weekly. What little I had of you I clung to like a light source in the darkness. Knowing that one day the light would pull me through.
Dear dad. When I got of the train on the 15th of December and you where stood at the top of the platform stairs, I knew exactly who you were. though your mop head of hair was thankfully gone and you had grown older (with grace) you where the man I remembered.
The man I had almost thought a dream, it had been that long.
Dear dad. I'm sorry that when Drea so gracefully coaxed me out the of closet to you, I got a little snot on your shirt,
In a whirlwind of emotions that had flooded from my mouth in a heap of sentencesless words I lost my cool, in the words of flying doves and Rainbow flags I understood your love,
In a hug that felt warm and loving and long overdue I knew, I always knew you're love but the confirmation of it made me an emotional wreck, mixed with the gin intake that night I’m surprised my tears weren't declared waterfalls.
Dear Dad. I love you.
But i'm not so good with my “in the moment” words.
I don’t know how to express feeling and talk about… stuff…?
But I do know how to string word together in a rhythmic fashion that may possibly come out in a poem like form that I can deem worthy of showing my peers.
Dear Dad, Thank you-
Thank you for Jameson, Adien and Conlan, Thank you for my Big insanely crazy beautiful family.
(As a side note i should probably also thank my step mum for not being evil like the fairy tales told me you'd be... that was a pleasant surprise. I also love you)
Dear Dad, I love you and thank you for loving me to.
Sincerely, A very grateful daughter. <3