Father’s DayApril 12, 2012
My life is a circle, going round and round;
Continually onward, my soul is bound.
Upon reaching the finish I begin again,
Each circuit completed marking where I’ve been.
I see a pattern as I study the past,
Where last becomes first, and first is last.
Some things are constant; of that I’m glad,
Most stalwartly standing, the image of Dad.
In early years, as the revolving began,
He was the first answer to “What is Man?”
Impressions of life were etched on my brain,
But thoughts we had were not the same,
And changed, as the circle continued to grow.
He was a prideful father—that, I know.
His was a simple creed: Me and Mine,
A belief so strong it was almost divine.
Perhaps he could not see the circle of me,
Or understand the person I needed to be.
Approaching life with differing views,
We often argued, old versus new.
Now last is first, and first is last;
Now is time to reconcile the past.
It’s time to consider that life has more meaning,
Than being the right one, forever competing.
To the future of family and the circle of life!
Strong relationships constant, unriddled with strife.
This Father’s Day marks the beginning, the end,
The circle completed, and this time, as friends.
I know, I know, it’s not Father’s Day. I gave this poem to Grandpa John in 1995 and am posting it for posterity. The poem shows that although we were close and loved one another, we were sometimes too similar in personality and temperament to like each other. We fixed it all, though. It was important, and it was worth it.