This is the third anniversary of my father's death from brain cancer. I miss him. I do feel his presence, from time to time. My faith is shaken, I confess. Tested but not lost.
I am currently facing a diagnosis of having a disease of the oesophagus, which, while treatable, can lead to worse things, and has some painful implications. Not a great time to take up throat singing.
There a few new poems for my father in my new collection, to be launched on the feast day of Our Lady of Sorrows.
I noted in the weekend papers that religion might be "hardwired" into our brains. The ambiguity continues. Some will see this as proof of God's design, others of the strictly mechanistic explanation of the universe. To my mind, since love, taste, desire, sight, and all other of the things that make existence rich and deep, stem from the brain and its chemistry, it can hardly be a small thing for belief or faith to reside there as well. Since neuro-chemistry is part of the fabric of the miracle that is being, how can it be used to disprove the mystery of things?
I am currently facing a diagnosis of having a disease of the oesophagus, which, while treatable, can lead to worse things, and has some painful implications. Not a great time to take up throat singing.
There a few new poems for my father in my new collection, to be launched on the feast day of Our Lady of Sorrows.
I noted in the weekend papers that religion might be "hardwired" into our brains. The ambiguity continues. Some will see this as proof of God's design, others of the strictly mechanistic explanation of the universe. To my mind, since love, taste, desire, sight, and all other of the things that make existence rich and deep, stem from the brain and its chemistry, it can hardly be a small thing for belief or faith to reside there as well. Since neuro-chemistry is part of the fabric of the miracle that is being, how can it be used to disprove the mystery of things?
Comments
By the time I die, I hope "faith-based" government (the government taking my tax dollars and giving them to some godawful organization to do god-knows-what with) will be ancient...history. And nothing else.
I hope that you make a very swift recovery from any disease that is ailing you. My poet father died six years ago and I still miss him terribly.
Prayers and best wishes from Simon
That said, Todd, I think you will pull through what you are going through. I truly and strongly hope you do.
Also, you have a great inspiration in your father. I hope you can live as long, or much much longer, than he did, and accomplish much more than you have so far.
Sorry for being a bit ranty in my last comment!
Cheers!
Hope our kids will remember us on our 100 years anniversary :)
In his memory, here are some poems I would like to dedicate to him:
Feel Your Love
To my dear family,
I'm sending this from above,
That even though I'm gone from earth,
I can still feel your love.
I'm sure you all can make it,
You have God by your side,
And just to let you know,
I'm enjoying this long heavenly Harley ride.
If any of you ever need me,
Just close your eyes and I'll be there,
I'll help you through your life,
If you remember how much I cared.
I want you all to know today,
That I love you very much,
And even though I'm gone from earth,
I can still feel your love.
+ Rest In Peace my dad until we meet again +
If everyone had a father
Who was more like you,
The whole world would be blessed,
Just as I am blessed with you.
I've grown up with your values,
And I'm very glad I did;
So here's to you, dear father,
From your forever grateful kid:
He never looks for praises
He's never one to boast
He just goes on quietly working
For those he loves the most.
His dreams are seldom spoken
His wants are very few
And most of the time his worries
Will go unspoken too.
He's there.... A firm foundation
Through all our storms of life
A sturdy hand to hold to
In times of stress and strife.
A true friend we can turn to
When times are good or bad
One of our greatest blessings,
The man that we call Dad.
Only a dad, neither rich nor proud,
Merely one of the surging crowd,
Toiling, striving from day to day,
Facing whatever may come his way,
Silent whenever the harsh condemn,
And bearing it all for the love of them.
Only a dad but he gives his all,
To smooth the way for his children small,
Doing with courage stern and grim
The deeds that his father did for him.
This is the line that for him I pen:
Only a dad, but the best of men.
We thought of you with love today,
But that is nothing new.
We thought about you yesterday.
And days before that too.
We think of you in silence.
We often speak your name.
Now all we have is memories.
And your picture in a frame.
Your memory is our keepsake.
With which we’ll never part.
God has you in his keeping.
We have you in our heart.