"Ghost"

Time pauses   

            when I dream of you   

                        Reversing—   

                                    pulling me back through years   

            until I hear   

                        your booming laughter ricochet     

            You appear before me   

            I embrace your solidity   

                        catch a whiff of Old Spice,   

                                    pipe tobacco   

            My tiny hand clutches yours   

            I am your child   

                       again   

                                    looking up into your deep brown eyes   

            You swing me up   

                        high onto your shoulders   

            I pat your chin—rough, unshaven   

                        Suddenly   

                                    We stand in my front yard   

                                                hugging goodbyes   

                                                promising another visit   

            Plans cancelled by death   

Time pauses   

            when I dream of you   

                        Reversing—   

                                    pulling me back through years   

            until I stand   

                        alone in the night   

            Suffering under the weight of grief   

            Conjuring you with my heartbreak   

                        your voice rises with enthusiasm   

                                    strengthens with determination     

            We argue politics   

            We agree to disagree   

                        again  

                                    looking into your deep brown eyes    

            You vanish   

                        leaving me sorrowful   

            Regretting silly squabbles   

                        Suddenly   

                                    I stand alone   

                                                searching for you     

                                                listening for your essence   

            Knowing you are gone forever  

IOUNIO's "Time Travler" for today's post!

When you listen to this song, drop a comment and SUBSCRIBE! Supporting talent is free and easy and only takes a moment.

"Ghost"

 Time pauses   

            when I dream of you   

                        Reversing—   

                                    pulling me back through years   

            until I hear   

                        your booming laughter ricochet     

            You appear before me   

            I embrace your solidity   

                        catch a whiff of Old Spice,   

                                    pipe tobacco   

            My tiny hand clutches yours   

            I am your child   

                       again   

                                    looking up into your deep brown eyes   

            You swing me up   

                        high onto your shoulders   

            I pat your chin—rough, unshaven   

                        Suddenly   

                                    We stand in my front yard   

                                                hugging goodbyes   

                                                promising another visit   

            Plans cancelled by death   

Time pauses   

            when I dream of you   

                        Reversing—   

                                    pulling me back through years   

            until I stand   

                        alone in the night   

            Suffering under the weight of grief   

            Conjuring you with my heartbreak   

                        your voice rises with enthusiasm   

                                    strengthens with determination     

            We argue politics   

            We agree to disagree   

                        again  

                                    looking into your deep brown eyes    

            You vanish   

                        leaving me sorrowful   

            Regretting silly squabbles   

                        Suddenly   

                                    I stand alone   

                                                searching for you     

                                                listening for your essence   

            Knowing you are gone forever  

May 1999

 

"Father's Day"

 

Edna and Karl Abrams--1950s

            Words don’t come easily on days like today. I miss my father every day, but Father’s Day pushes his absence into the forefront. On days like today, I wish for Dad’s boisterous voice booming through the house as he prepares his first cup of coffee for the day. I long for a whiff of his Old Spice scenting the room. I yearn for another hug and kiss where his morning stubble scratches my cheek. I need one more corny joke that makes me groan and roll my eyes. I want to argue once again about those hot subjects of politics, religion, sex and money!
            So on days like today, words don’t flow as easily. My heart feels heavy, the hurt still painful even though this marks the tenth Father’s Day without Dad. Many of you celebrate today with your fathers. I hope you cherish the conversations you share and enjoy the time together. For those of you who mark today without your fathers, may your memories be sweet, kind, and loving.

Karl Abrams-retirement from Galveston County Sheriff's Department 1992

Copyright 2011 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

"Father's Day"



Edna and Karl Abrams--1950s

            Words don’t come easily on days like today. I miss my father every day, but Father’s Day pushes his absence into the forefront. On days like today, I wish for Dad’s boisterous voice booming through the house as he prepares his first cup of coffee for the day. I long for a whiff of his Old Spice scenting the room. I yearn for another hug and kiss where his morning stubble scratches my cheek. I need one more corny joke that makes me groan and roll my eyes. I want to argue once again about those hot subjects of politics, religion, sex and money!
            So on days like today, words don’t flow as easily. My heart feels heavy, the hurt still painful even though this marks the tenth Father’s Day without Dad. Many of you celebrate today with your fathers. I hope you cherish the conversations you share and enjoy the time together. For those of you who mark today without your fathers, may your memories be sweet, kind, and loving.

Karl Abrams-retirement from Galveston County Sheriff's Department 1992

Copyright 2011 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

“The First Christmas”

         Tonight I labor to find the words that will ease the spirits of several friends and family members as Christmas approaches. For the first time, these friends face Christmas without a father, mother, brother or son. The recent losses of these families weighs me down, and even my fingers find it hard to search out the right keys, form the best words, offer comfort within the grief.

         All of the platitudes and well wishes voiced through love and concern cannot ease the ache or fill the emptiness. The next year becomes nothing but an endless list of “firsts.” Christmas, the New Year, Mother's Day and Father's Day, birthdays—every day. Every day will take effort to breathe and move. Every day will require unbelievable strength to simply make it from sunrise to sun set.

         Everyone processes loss differently. You’d think it would be easier to find acceptance with the loss of an elderly or ill parent, but loss is loss. Sorrow slips into the room at unexpected moments and silently taps you on the shoulder, whispers into your ear, “Remember how much Dad liked that?”  or “Mom’s favorite song’s on the radio again.” And the mourning stays fresh.

         Within the last week, we learned of the death of one of the younger members of our family. I watched the suffering of his father, mother and brother. I stood witness to the weeping of his aunts, uncles, cousins and friends. I shed my own tears for the living as well as for him. Now, their lives demarcate into before and after. I hope this separation of their lives won’t rip them apart. I long to pull them tightly into an embrace that can bind their family together and protect them from this anguish.

          Tonight, another branch of the family sits at the bedside of their father. The hospice nurse tells them it’s time to take care of the final details. They, too, face the first Christmas with an empty chair.

The Empty Chair By Dena Cardwell

Copyright 2011 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman 

“Father’s Day”



Edna and Karl Abrams--1950s

            Words don’t come easily on days like today. I miss my father every day, but Father’s Day pushes his absence into the forefront. On days like today, I wish for Dad’s boisterous voice booming through the house as he prepares his first cup of coffee for the day. I long for a whiff of his Old Spice scenting the room. I yearn for another hug and kiss where his morning stubble scratches my cheek. I need one more corny joke that makes me roll my eyes and groan. I want to argue once again about those hot subjects of politics, religion, sex and money!
            So on days like today, words don’t flow as easily. My heart feels heavy, the hurt still painful even though this marks the tenth Father’s Day without Dad. Many of you celebrate today with your fathers. I hope you cherish the conversations you share and enjoy the time together. For those of you who mark today without your fathers, may your memories be sweet, kind, and loving.

Karl Abrams-retirement from Galveston County Sheriff's Department 1992

Copyright 2011 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman