When I was small,
your hand held mine,
in a father’s grip,
both firm and kind.
I’d look up in awe
at your towering frame,
your proud stance unwavering.
I'd like to think that I was a good girl
who obeyed the rules,
because your voice was profound,
grounding my feet
onto the solid ground.
Through my childhood,
long HGV trips were the norm,
and I listened for the latch
on the garden gate,
as I waited patiently
for your return.
I remember how you were
so regimented and set in your ways,
but your love shone through
in those distant days.
I felt relief as years passed,
your strict edges softened,
into acceptance at last.
Now time’s cogs have turned,
our roles have reversed,
and life writes for us
in a different verse.
Once you strode
with a confident pace,
but a Zimmer frame
now takes that place.
Your hands, once strong,
are fragile and sore,
stiffened by time,
yet still they endure.
I see the warrior’s spirit
that still burns inside you,
as cancer battles loom,
you strive to push through.
Where once you led
with a mighty stride,
it is now my turn
to care and guide.
My strength is yours
as we walk a little slower these days
with me still by your side.
©️Lizzie Bevis
My Dad has been in hospital over the past few weeks following a series of falls.
Sadly, this lead to a diagnosis of advanced cancer throughout my dads body.
My Dad was always a proud and stubborn man,
thankfully he has mellowed a little in his twilight years.
I am glad that I am able to help him to feel comfortable and cared for.
I know what is to come...and it will be tough.
