A fathers day tribute

Here is a perfect poem for fathers day!

It is written by an old friend of over 50 years in tribute to his father but while personal, it captures beautifully the universal emotions of love and respect, of words not said and of wisdom gained.

Unfinished Farewells

He never gave himself the time to age
and I cannot ever imagine him old.
He was so active, always on the go
getting the job done,
moving on to the next.

His goodbyes were always
brief and to the point
somewhat hurried, sometimes half-done.
Not for him the lingering
'bye-byes' of our clan,
the 'dear Octopus' that hugged us
in its unfailing grasp,
as we, reluctant to let go,
longing to hang on,
made hesitant efforts
to disengage, our interwoven lives
of endless memories
and family lore.

His final farewell,
improvised and unexpected,
over even before it ever began,
left so much 'unfinished business'
that might have filled
the eventide
with sunsets by the sea,

If only it could be
just possible for him to see
how he could ease his pace,
give himself the room
to rest his heart
at home with treasured memories.

But now he's home at last,
the memories are ours
to share and care and carry on.

When I said goodbye at Santa Cruz
it was not the first time
I was going away,
though for how long this time
I couldn’t say.

I wondered when
we'd meet again,
would he visit where I was going
or have to wait
till I came home again?

Airport waiting is a practiced art.
Never his forte, that's for sure.
But now it was a welcome start
to unhurried farewells
this time at last,
as we talked the half night through
until my flight was due.

Nothing's further than a call today,
I said up front, half convinced myself,
not quite realising how
far away are some places,
beyond all telephonic spaces,
where neither of us as yet
had thought to go.

So when that dreaded call came though
that fateful Friday night,
I was many galaxies away,
cut off from him by sound and sight.

No phone could reach him then
too late I realised
the unhurried farewell
that airport night
had been our last goodbye.

His trust still gives me courage
and sends me on my way,
daring me to dream
new worlds still far away.

His optimism lights my hope
against a hopeless world,
it stills my restless waiting in
my sometimes senseless world.

His teasing humour
still makes me laugh
with him and at myself.
From his large heartedness
I've learnt to stretch
my every means
and reach beyond my grasp.

From him I learnt
how not to panic
in a crisis,
hold the tiller firm,
set my sail against the wind,
remain uncompromised
in honesty and faith
even when betrayed by
unfair plays and hidden deals
that take advantage of one's t rust.

From cruel misfortunes
he protected us
his joi de vie
infected us
and saw us through
the dark unto the dawn
as long as he stood guard.

My knees still knock
When I hear the fire truck go by,
remembering how once
the flames engulfed
my childhood home,
took my world and
everything we had
into the chill December night;
but for his decisive presence
we escaped with just our lives.
But looking back was not for him.
Picking up the pieces
of our charred, scared lives
he put together for us all
another future
new hopes, new dreams,
a newer, braver world.

When with all the weight
of my nineteen years
I solemnly declared:
"I'm leaving home
for Vinayalaya
I won’t be coming back",
"The boy's not serious, he's a clown,"
he said, but to me:
"Be a good one if you must,
no half-measures
will ever please
yourself or me,
do not betray my trust.”
“It matters less
what others say
if you can stay the course,
your achievement will
outlast success
the inner spirit
must come first.”

And so his ceaseless quest
to do his best
inspires in me
a restlessness
that haunts me so,
I cannot settle for
a comfort zone,
when just beyond the horizon,
impossible dreams become possible,
if only one would stretch enough
to reach the lowering sky,

If only I had told him then
how proud I was of him,
my father and my friend.
Too late now, I hope
He hears me yet and smiles."