woke up this morning
listening to dad talking
his words indistinct
just the sound of his voice droning
barking instructions the way some Asian fathers do
with the military cadence of a drill sergeant
although he’s been gone so long
he creeps into my dreams now and then
inducing feelings of affection
he didn’t demonstrate in life

he was a man of simple faith:
with a roof over your head
clothes on your back
food on the table
you should be happy

his health caused him to retire early
still, he kept himself busy
considered himself a man of action
he worked hard and led by example
he didn’t guide or counsel me
you have to have conversations to do that
through his lies he taught me not to
but within his own means
there was nothing he wouldn’t do for us
perhaps he did too much

it’s been so long I can’t remember the exact date
he had a “fatal” heart attack towards the end of February
and died two and a half months later
on May 6, 1986

how ironic that I can still hear his voice
and now, somehow, find reassurance in his tone


Del Maximo
© February 18, 2010