In his dying process my father was different from
what I’d been told to accept about him, everything
I’ve seen & experienced with my own eyes, even
in previous times - differed from what they’d said;
yes, I’d been there, when every time he opened
his mouth, my mother stopped him in shock
And yes, memories of us kids being ashamed of
him - BUT its because he was always stopped by
mother, filtered through Grandma Margaret Alice;
my personal dealings with him revealed another
person: he was squeaky clean without access to
shower or bath beyond a washcloth and soap
He was totally dependable & loyal & loveable, &
yes - I’ve memories of being so ashamed of him
as he taught Sunday school class, but who in hell
got him into such an alien & unnatural role given
his honest and forthright nature - tonight I cry for
having to suffer the perception he was dirty
Simply because mom made him out as such just
because she commandeered his pension money
and he came back angry and confused - all
I want to say is – dad, I’ve got your back…
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Dying Eventually
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