rancherwriterpoet

Dad’s Day, 2020

June 21 is Father’s Day 2020. I am a father. I have been a father since October 1959. Age is not creeping anymore; it is fast tracking. I have three remarkable children, six wonderful grandchildren and five amazing great-grandchildren and lest I forget a delightful stepdaughter. My fatherly life is full. I am so blessed.
Frank Sinatra sang; “regrets, I’ve had a few”. Have I made mistakes, absolutely! During my lifetime, there have been ups and downs, some periods even went sideways, so, yes, one could say “regrets, I ‘ve had a few.”
Being a father is not necessarily the same as being a “dad”. The first is a biological event; the second is an emotional one. I would never regret being a “father” however, I do regret not always being a “dad”. But then, one cannot go back in time and change the past.
So, to all my family, on this Father’s Day, 2020, I will strive to be more of a “Dad.” Please know that I love all of you and am proud to be your “Dad”, your “Stepdad”,  your “Granddad”, and your “Great Grandad!” To all the Dad’s in our family, I hope this “Dad’s Day” is meaningful to you.

And from an era gone by, this about my “Dad”.

Lewis Stewart was my stepfather, entering my life at the brink of my becoming a teenager. But he was more than a stepfather. He became my “Dad”, not necessarily in name but in every other aspect. He was my “Dad”. He went to his heavenly home on June 7th, 1984. My “Pop” was and still is a loving memory for me. I pay tribute to him in this poem I wrote in 1992.

The March of Age

Silver strands of wispy hair adorn
The head of this old man,
His eyes seem tired and he grows weak,
He does the best he can.

Age has caught the life of him
Whom age could never touch.
At least not him who’s big to me,
Whose hand I reach to clutch.

The years have fast raced on to reach
This one who could not fall.
The yesterdays are now but faint,
This fate must touch us all.

When grown men cry so deep inside
That words can ne’er explain,
There’s reason for the tears we hide,
Redeeming love without refrain.

So, age will search for others now,
Not knowing what it had.
For age does not discriminate,
I know, it caught my Dad.

Pete Robertson
© 1992