Dad - written after he passed away in July 2001

Dad - Claire Hegarty - © December 2001
Things seem okay, and I forget for a while,
that I won't be greeted by your hug or your smile.
And as I walk into the hallway, I am taken aback,
realising your coats are gone from the rack.
The coats used to hang there, in sets of two,
some belonging to mam, some belonging to you.
As I call out to Mam, to let her know I am here,
I fix a smile on my face and stifle back tears.

I go into the kitchen to make us some tea,
and memories in everything jump out at me.
I see your radio, your photos, your rocking chair,
wherever I look, the memories are there.
Things look just the same, all safe and all sound,
it's hard to believe you're not physically around.
But, in my minds eye, I can still see your face,
and I hope that spiritually you are still in the place.

We sit and we chat and have a drink in your name,
but we both know that things are just not the same.
Remembering the good times and even the bad,
though we know you've passed on, it's hard not to feel sad.
We know you weren't perfect and like all families do,
we had our tiffs and our differences, more than a few.
But despite all of that, the bond is still strong,
and we all loved each other, in that I'm not wrong.

Worrying about Mam and if she feels alone,
I want her to know she is not on her own.
I know that she talks to you every night
You're not out of her mind, though you are out of her sight.
You used to say if you went, that we sould soon forget,
Well, we never will and we haven't yet.
In us and the children, you will live on
and I guess in those ways, you are not fully gone.

Sometimes, doing things, that the family share,
I get a lump in my throat, I so want you there.
When I look at the young ones, I wish you could see,
how they are growing and what they turn out to be.
I miss you, I love you but memories console,
and help to diminish the ache in my soul.
I know you would visit, if you were allowed,
and I hope the family you left, made you happy and proud