Perfect For Me

Every time I look at dad’s photo as a young man,

my psyche registers something, how he’s humbled

by the privilege having 5 kids with all their fingers,

toes and minds intact – even if the interaction in

the house destroyed happy thoughts; dad did select

a mother who introduced us to authors: Langenhoven,

Charlottle Brontë & Jane Austen - he had done

something so wonderful –

And mom led by example = listening & playing Mozart,

Chopin and Beethoven on the piano, singing lullabies

and telling stories herself – even if she as the Queen of

Hearts when disobeyed tried to strangle the Duchess, my

twin sis, and shattered dad’s new radio when throwing a

brush at Peter Pan my naughty elder brother of 18 months

– dad so humble about everything, his Queenly wife and

Cinderella his mother-in-law,

His kids – since Dad was Conan the Barbarian, he enjoyed

his eldest son Attila the Hun, his goldy-locks son Peter Pan,

twin daughters Alice and the Duchess & his youngest Tom-

Thumb; never realising Alice experienced life like Snegourka,

the melting Russian Maiden of Ice, nor that our little Duchess

needed more love than she ever got; Conan was delighted

by Cinderella keeping  -

The house smelling so good, preparing better fare than ever

seen on the Food channel; - then I look at dad’s photo as an

88-year old man, handsome like Santa Clause with his white

beard and hair – and remember our Departmental Director

declaring - after staring at dad’s photo some time - I LOVE

that man –  with love welling up in me - the love felt when

taking care of him, watching him as he sat upright with

water on the lungs -

His feet on the floor – swollen and cold – his showing me

how to take suffering in one’s stride – and I was jealous

at times of his having completed the course of life I still

have to take – but I knew he had to leave as his hanging

on for my mother’s sake, enjoying her painting and music

and choirs, already took him way beyond what his body

could take; he had to offer her security as his love was

bigger than himself: people only saw him but as his

Daughter, his Alice In Wonderland – I saw his burning,

loving, passionate. loving heart inside; the bags of love

he carried for exquisite things like babies and small kids

and toys like steam trains, petrol-fuelled cars for us kids

and tape-recorders and teaching me to draw a sailing ship

– every map & sail I see proclaim my dad – oh please –

hear my song: David born on 25 May 1927 & died on 4

April 2017, my Dad - you were PERFECT to me…