Pa-pa's One-of-a-Kind Father's Day Card

Call me a disgruntled Father's Day card shopper.  A previous blog-poem (plog?) expresses my frustration at not being able to find an appropriate card this year for Great-Grandpa Ted.  Yesterday's effort to locate one for Pa-pa turned out fruitless as well.  The typical card, it seemed, depicted a fishing pole, said, "Happy Father's Day," and tried to get to me for at least $2.99. 

In Great-Grandpa's case, I baked him an angelfood cake and called it good.  It was what he asked for, and my only concern is that it seemed so inadequate for such an important person on such an important day.  In Pa-pa's case, however, I simply decided to write my own "card."  Now, Sooby, Pooh, and Bootsie can always look back and see what Googie wrote to their Pa-pa on Father's Day 2011, when they were ages three (almost four), two, and eight months.

        Father's Day Card

The cards were expensive and trite
and none of them had just the right
message: generic words penned
by people I don't know
for people they don't know.

So this Father's Day I write my own:
I hope your day is special like you,
another one we are blessed with
in this life we chance to share;
and I am glad you've been there

with your always-ready smile,
the laughs hiding just behind your eyes,
the strong shoulders, the enormous heart
that the kids and I have come to count on
to sustain and love us through it all.

Card Shopping

I have stood here and read
every single Father's Day card
in the store and none of the messages
say what I feel this year.

"Thanks":
Well, you know I appreciate
all you taught me,
all you sacrificed to feed and clothe
and shelter our family those years
you worked day and night and
came home smelling like grease.
The sentiment of gratitude
has spewed from every single
Father's Day card I ever bought you.

"I remember . . .":
the time I almost let the tractor slide into the creek;
the one time we all stayed overnight in a motel;
church every Sunday when you wore
those corny black shoes
with the tongue that slid up
and snapped on the outside.
You know I treasure the memories;
the other cards have made that clear.

"You've always been there for me,"
even at times I didn't especially want it
or deserve it; that is why
it is hard for me to imagine
a world where you are not;
a world devoid of the presence
that has always risen above me
like some massive rock.

The cards have all said that too,
and yet, those other years
I never agonized over choices
as I am doing now--
because I know
this may be my last chance
to pick the perfect card
and I so want to get it right.

Footnote to Sooby, Pooh, and Bootsie:  Guys, this poem is about your great-grandpa Ted.  I wrote it the night before he began his sixth round of chemotherapy in his battle with lung cancer.  I hope that, when you grow up, you will be able to remember him a little bit.  He thinks you are pretty special.