I am not extremely drawn to poetry so it was a little peculiar when I was sick the other day and this poem kind of materialized out of nowhere. I was actually working on a post I have partially written when I found myself fighting the rhyming verses that kept materializing. So, this was produced instead.

ReGeneration

Perhaps I had it coming,
But I don’t remember well
Why I often wore the welts of belts
When I was small Michele.

My father’s rage often hit the roof
While my mother simply played aloof.
She’d say his name in that horrid whine
As if that would suddenly help this time.

When as a child I lie in bed
Anger and fear swirling through my head
The kind and gentle face I saw
Was the apparition of my grandpa.

While lying there I began to cry.
For the thought that he would someday die
Sent floods of salty streams to flow
To soak the core of my pillow.

I greatly envied my own mother
Having a father such as he,
And I equally resented her
For choosing mine for me.

Our fathers represented
The likes of day and night.
The gentle one had been to war;
The other learned to fight.

From the childish vision of my dad
I often thought all men were bad
Then I recalled the other man who
Showed us warmth so kind and true.

Now I’m grown and he is gone
But I am lucky he lived so long.
I’m only sad my kids didn’t see
Just why he was so special to me.

It’s quite ironic, this circle of life
For now despite my childhood strife
My once hurtful father is no more–
He’s now the grandpa my kids adore.

I don’t know why, but I felt compelled to post this today. Possibly because of what I shared in a comment yesterday about the picture in my sidebar I’ve entitled, Wheel of Fortune. My grandpa died just 2 weeks before he turned eighty-nine in October 2006. His birthday preceded mine by only six days, so when I was a child we often celebrated them together. Oddly, my daughter was born six days before my dad’s birthday, just as I was born six days before my maternal grandfather’s birthday. It’s kind of a peculiar fact, but nevertheless, I find it interesting and for whatever reason, I consider it special.

My grandpa’s death had a huge impact on me, and on the day he would have turned eighty-nine, just two weeks following his funeral, I felt this urge to grab a pen and paper. I didn’t really think–I just wrote what came to me and this is what resulted. I had never written poetry, so it falls quite short of marvelous…but I can assure it was heartfelt.

 “Happy Birthday In Heaven”

If you had any faults
you kept them all from me.
Humor, love and modesty
were all that I could see.

I’m so sad to have lost you
as all who knew you are.
I know it’s only Heaven
but it seems so very far.

I doubt that you can hear us,
those of us still here on Earth-
but a happy birthday to you
on this anniversary of your birth.

This day is still a special one
for it’s when your life began.
You were a hero, husband, father and grandpa-
one truly terrific man.

You meant the world to your wife and kids
and to your grandchildren–yes, all seven.
and so it’s with a heavy heart
I wish you a happy birthday in Heaven.