Parked out front, on Seventh street, it meant I was safe and sound.
His presence alone, a calming effect that knew no bound.
Without effort, life seemed normal, so long as he was there.
I even had a mom, by all appearances, that was able to care.
Life seemed normal with him by my side, always there,
A dad who cared, his love beyond compare.
We skipped out on that father-daughter dance, for ice cream.
Our little secret, no one else privy to our private scheme.
Not a wrinkle in my socks before helping me put on my shoes.
I realize now that made us the most alike, a neurological condition we did not choose.
He would always come running whenever I fell down.
Wiping my tears before taking me for a drive around town.
Neighborhood kids said I was lucky to have him as my dad.
His smile, his love, never once, not ever at me, mad.
I think of the years she turned me against him, too.
It didn’t last, who he was, always stood true.
I watched her attack him and he just walked away.
I listened to her lies about him and he never corrected anything she had to say.
Instead, he taught me to think and question everything on my own.
He guided my mental independence, a valuable lesson that only his love shown.
16 years have flown by, each full of memories we no longer amass,
Sugar cream pies, his hand on my shoulder, moments that without him pass.
16 years since his laughter filled the air,
My kids still remember his hugs, a grandpop’s bond so rare.
They think it’s funny all the tools he gave for birthday gifts.
That I passed on to them because I had several duplicates.
Childhood memories flood my mind.
A stroll down memory lane, I’d take, if time I could rewind.
Looking for that Ford pickup truck parked out front again.
A familiar sight to erase all the pain trapped within.
