?©Father's Day In Heaven 

Barbara Weymouth

I hope they celebrate Father's Day in Heaven

Cause if there ever was a special Daddy, it was you!

I remember not being able to wait for you to come home from work.  Sometimes you were gone before I awoke and returned after I was asleep in my bed. 

I remember crawling out of bed when I heard your voice, running and jumping into your arms, and smelling the fresh scent of pine.  You always had that big old grin, when I would say, ???I missed you, Daddy???.

Then you would give me a big old squeeze and sit down and hold me on your knee.  You would bounce me a couple times and ask me, how was your day. Then you would hold me tight against your chest and say, ???I missed you too honey???.

During all my growing years I never had any fears, for I knew you would always be there for Momma and Me.

You were my tower of strength; you were the invincible one!  Whenever I was in need, you were always there for me!

And as I grew into womanhood, you were there still.  When I gave birth to my son, you were there to drive me to the hospital, you lovingly kissed me on the cheek and said, ???Honey, I can't help you with this one???, but you did more than you will ever know.  And when my husband left us without even a goodbye, you became Grandpa and Daddy to my son, ???Your Little Bud???.

You couldn??™t have been prouder!  You were his father figure, mentor and friend.  I will be forever grateful to you, for you filled in the gap, the one his father left. God saw that he had a daddy after all, a fine male role model to call, his Grandpa.

As you grew older and your health began to fail, you still wanted to know that, you Bud was okay.  It hurt us to see your once strong body growing frail.  Ravaged by the thief called, ???Parkinson??™s Disease???.  God called you home from your suffering when Bud was only fifteen, and then he called Momma eight months after losing you.

It was a very dark time in my life, saying good-bye to both my towers of strength, my hero and my heroine; my two best friends.  I thought my life would surely end! 

 God must have given me the strength of steel, for with out Him I could not of healed and dealt with such loss.  My family foundation had crumbled under my feet.  But the Lord sought not to allow defeat!

For I went ahead and pursued a career, providing for my son, taking care of our old family home even improving upon it.  I raised my son to grow into a fine example of a man.  Daddy, if you??™re looking down, you can see that he has grown to be the father; you would have hoped he would be.

So, if they??™re celebrating Father's Day in Heaven, I hope there??™s something extra special there for you, for my exceptional Father and friend.  I love you and miss you and till we meet again, keep a song in your heart and a smile on your lips.  Happy Father's Day!

?©Copyright Barbara J. Ervin-Weymouth, June 19, 2004, All Rights Reserved

About Me:

My name is Barbara J. Ervin-Weymouth; I was born and raised and still reside in the beautiful state of California, USA.  I am a Christian and a proud mother of one son, Eric who is married to my daughter-in-law Dawn, together they have given me two beautiful gifts from God, I call my grandchildren. 

I have one very spoiled Staffordshire Terrier, Rosie, who doesn't know she's a dog, shhh!  I have worked in public education for 26 years.  After 22 of them I decided to become an Adult Education Teacher.  It has been the realization of a life long dream. I have been substitute teaching for the past five years.  I??™m still praying for a classroom and students of my own.  I am truly blessed beyond measure. 

In my spare time I enjoy writing true-life short stories and poetry and trying my hand at webpage design:  Short stories and poems: http://snicklefritzmuffins.tripod.com/

Email:  Weymouth@cwnet.com

I am published on the following E-Sites:

Storytime Tapestry

Starfish (ripplemaker.com)

SFPNN

Hearts With Soul

Pearlsoup.com

Women With Heart

Poetry.com

http://skywriting.net/

  ~**~**~

Signs of a Man

By Ron Gold

            If my father were a girl, you??™d call him Penny.

            But his name was Murray.  And he was a slave to a penny

business, a candy store during  the depression; America??™s penny

generation.

            Dad earned a penny on each newspaper he sold.  Less than a

penny on candy and gum.  A few pennies on a bottle of soda-pop,

provided he returned the empty glass bottle.

Dad communicated his penny values to my kid brother, Richy,

and me.  If we asked for a dime, we knew Dad had to sell ten

newspapers to earn that dime, twenty-five newspapers to earn a

quarter, one-hundred newspapers ??“ that??™s right 100 newspapers

to earn a dollar.

            Yet, he gave us everything we needed and most of what we

wanted.

            We lived in a tidy apartment over the store, located on the

bottom of ???hospital hill??? in Stamford, CT.  The front door of the

store was crowned with a large bulb-lit sign that spelled

???HUBER??™S ICE CREAM??? correctly in large letters but misspelled

???Murry??? Gold in smaller letters.

            But Dad didn??™t mind the typo.  It wasn??™t important.  What

was important was that he was working when so many people

couldn??™t; that he was always able to feed, clothe, shelter and

care for Richy and me, whom he loved??”and for Mom, whom he

adored.

            Dad offered credit to good neighbors who were struggling

through perpetual poverty.  He made sure his chubby, red-nosed

friend, Larry, a housepainter and fisherman, took home a daily

newspaper.  And that he had pipe tobacco; even shots of Dad??™s good

Canadian whiskey.

            Larry reciprocated by stuffing our kitchen sink with

flapping flounders or plump, fleshy clams.

            At night, Dad relived stories of his voyage from Russia

to New York City.  And how he supported his family by singing with

the distinguished cantor, Josef Rosenblatt--and with the

Metropolitan Opera??™s children??™s chorus-before he was 13!

His small moustache climbed closer to his soft blue eyes as

he recalled Enrico Caruso pinching the ladies of the chorus.  And

Geraldine Ferrar bringing candy for the children.

            Dad also helped my brother and me escape the depression by

reading to us.  His clear tenor guided us to Treasure Island. And to

the wild west.  And to Ali Baba??™s cave.

            But these stirring stories never equaled Dad??™s true new world

yarns.  Or our very favorite story about the airplane he and Mom

won the day before their wedding.

            Dad bought a raffle ticket and wrote Mom??™s name on it for

good luck.  And, for the first time, they finally saved dollars.

And a photo that recorded their good fortune.

            Dad wore his knickerbockers and Mom wore a long dress as

they posed in the biplane that became their nest egg.  The picture??™s

caption was painted on the plane??™s fuselage.  This very important sign

said, ???The Spirit of Stamford???.  And not one word was misspelled.

Ron Gold

outthinkresumes@aol.com
About Me:
Ron Gold has been writing professionally for some 50 years--in public relations,
advertising and motivation agencies. He now writes
inspirational and humorous stories for the Internet. He also creates
professional resumes from a recruiter's viewpoint, ethical wills and
personal love stories. He also edits college essays students submit
to undergraduate and graduate schools. He was graduated from the
University of Bridgeport and served as a Public Information Specialist
in the U.S. Army. He resides in West Orange, NJ He can be reached at
outthinkresumes@aol.com

 ~**~**~

Maybe I'll give this to him when I get there.  Maybe I'll mail it when I leave his house.  Maybe I'll never send it and just keep it in my favorite box with all my special letters, poems and things.  Maybe if I do send it, he'll know though we are a thousand miles apart, it does not change my heart.

Dear Dad

Sharon Bryant

You didn't believe me when I told you I was "coming home" to see you.  You told me all I do is work and you know how busy I am.

But you know what dad?  When I found out you weren't feeling so well this spring, I knew somehow I'd find the time to make the trip north to see you.

You told your other daughter, my sister, that you don't understand what's happening.  You told her some days you can remember things and then others, you can't remember anything.  You get mad at her when she checks your medicine to make sure you took that pill the doctor told you would help.  You said you hate taking medicine. 

When the doctor said, "It's Alzheimer's," you said, "Isn't that what Reagan had?  Isn't that what he died from?  He lost his memory totally."  You were told yes, it's what Reagan had.  You shook your head and said, "This can't be happening to me."  And though it breaks our hearts, we know something is happening to you.

I'd like to trigger your memory dad.  Since I'm the oldest and we go back a long ways, I'd like to take you back.  You see Dad, I have a lifetime of memories with you.  Every single one of them is special.  I've passed them on to my own children so that one day If I'm ever told I need medicine for the same thing, perhaps they will understand, and perhaps they will carry the memories that I do.

I always wanted to hang out with you dad.  Mom used to tell me I should have been a boy instead of a girl.  But you know.....you had things to do that were fun and I loved painting with you, helping you make a new chicken coop, sanding down that old '57 Pontiac station wagon you had.  I preferred that to canning tomatoes and peaches with mom.

It was you Dad who stood there the night I appeared in my first square dance show and you clapped the loudest and yelled out, "That's my girl."  I was so proud that night.  And it was you with mom who stood up when I walked down that aisle the night I graduated.  I was bursting with happiness that night Dad.  When you handed me the envelope and said, "I've been saving for a long time for this moment," I turned my head so you wouldn't see the tears when I saw how money you had saved for me.

It was you Dad, who stood beside me when the organ began to play.  Holding my arm in yours, you turned to me and said, "I can call this off if you want me to, you don't have to go through with this."  I knew, you didn't want to let go.  In ways, neither did I, but I knew my new life had to begin on my journey alone.

It was you Dad who stood with mom in that hospital room long ago when you saw your first grandchild and you were grinning from ear to ear and said, "What are you going to name him?"  When I told you, "After you, who else?," I saw you and mom grinning the widest grins ever.  When I brought him home from the hospital to stay with you and mom for a few days, you were afraid to hold him.  You said, "I might drop him," and mom said, "Silly, you held four babies many times in your life, you won't drop him."

It was you Dad who held me up five years later when I fell to the floor in the funeral parlor.  It was you who said, "This is something I can't fix, but God, I wish I could."  It was you who drove to my house 55 miles one way every single day to check on me.  And it was you who told me, "I wish I could do something to make you feel better, but I don't know what to do."  It was you mom talked about when she called on the phone saying, "Your dad is having a real hard time with this."  And to this day, Dad, it's only you that will mention your grandson's name to me.  You always say, "Has it been that long?  How, it doesn't seem possible."

It was you dad just five years later who held me again when I couldn't walk up to another coffin.  I clung to the railing outside the funeral parlor crying and you told me, "Come on, mom wouldn't want to see you like this."  It was you Dad who my heart broke the most for, because I know though I loved mom, you and she were so close.  You told me a long time ago you fell in love when you were 18 and she just 15 and you waited years for approval from her parents.

And it was you Dad that made me cry when I saw you kneeling at the coffin of your first son just 10 years later.  I wanted to help you so much, but I knew there was nothing I could say to make your pain easier.  When you looked at me and said, "Now I know what you have felt all these years," I knew your pain was as great as mine had been when my son died also.

It was you Dad that grandpa (mom's dad) told me that the day you were born, "God threw the mold away, that there would never be another like you on this earth."  And you know what Dad?  He was right.  I've been saying the same thing for years.

No girl could ever ask for a better father than you dad.  We've traveled many roads together.  You've taught me so much.  You used to say, "Now listen up gal, pay attention."  I'd laugh and say, "I AM listening."

I'll never forget the time I brought home a math problem that I couldn't do.  It had to be done in all those "steps" my teacher gave me instructions for.  You looked at the problem and the way they wanted it solved and you said, "This is nothing, but they're going the wrong way around it and taking too long to get the answer."  You showed me a short cut, which I understood.  When I went to school the next day and I had the correct answer but not the correct method of getting it, I got an "E."  I could hear you down the hallway when you and the teacher had a few words over it.  And you sure changed my grade from an "E" to an "A" real fast.

Remember the time you bought that new Cadillac and drove it off the lot and was going home and only had 20 miles to drive and it broke down?  You called me to come get you.  Then you called the Cadillac dealer and told them to pick that lemon up and keep it.  But you wouldn't let me take poster paint and write "LEMON" on the sides which I wanted to.  You said that wouldn't be "cool."  I told you I thought it would be REAL cool!

Remember the dates I brought home to meet you Dad?  You'd give me one look and I'd know I was wasting my time for the evening.  But when I dragged home my present hubby, you said, "Now, there's a guy I like!"  When I moved south, you weren't a happy camper, but somehow these past 13 years, you've adjusted to it.

I came home, didn't I Dad?  I promised you, and I've kept it.

I will always love you and respect you for who you are, what you have done to keep me on the right path all my life.  I will always remember how you were always there when I needed you.

I will always love you Dad.  On air, land and sea and through eternity.

Love,

Your daughter,
Sharon

 Sharon Bryant

1946 @bellsouth.net

About Me:

 I am Sharon Bryant, 59 years old and reside in Alabama.

I lost my child in 1977 when he was five and I write
articles on bereavement often.

I am a chocolate/candy maker and also a wood crafter and knitter.

I am married to a wonderful man, and have two remaining children, a daughter 25,
Amy, and a second son, Randy, age 22.

My main goal in life is to help those who
have lost a child. My website is: www.angelsremembered.tk

Poetry Section

~**~**~

Six years ago today, my father passed away. His birthday was just three weeks ago and today I remember him again. This is a poem I wrote a few years ago, only two years after his passing. I have been working on it again as a way of revisiting my feelings and honoring his memory.
 

For My Father

Jodi Flesberg Lilly

Sing a song of daddy??™s love
The child within me cries for more
For days gone by

Years of anger at such cost
The loss

That remains unfound

Tears of grief
And memories confound
All logic in my brain

Unable to refrain

From trying to make sense
Of the moon on the wane

Nature??™s way

Is giving birth
To what will pass away

But what we have loved
Remains
Carved deep into the heart
Altering all reason
Creating a new rhyme
A duet to be sung
In time out of mind

I have always loved you
I know you know it??™s so
Although I seldom showed my heart
My heart was ever true

I know too that you love me
Whatever comes to pass
Some things never change
That is the beauty of love

No matter what we??™ve said or lost
True love cuts through the pain
In opening to embrace it
A state of grace prevails
Elevating all who??™ve loved

To a higher plain


Copyright ?© 2001 Jodi Flesberg Lilly

Jodi Flesberg Lilly

lightinmotion @yahoo.com

Jodi Flesberg Lilly is a writer and intuitive astrologer living in San Ramon, CA.  She founded and leads the Creative Writers Network at www.Ryze.com (an online business networking site), as well as offering intuitive astrology readings, leading workshops, and teaching classes in spiritual and personal awareness.  To subscribe to her monthly Light In Motion, intuitive astrology newsletter please send an email to info@lightinmotion.net and write ???subscribe??? in the subject line.

lightinmotion@yahoo.com

~**~**~

The first was written for the Father of us all. It was His love and acceptance that made me realize the man who walked out on me when I was just little doesn't really matter as much as I'd thought. Took away the pain of his desertion.

The second poem , "Steps", is in dedication to 2 men. The one who married my Mom when I was 10 and raised me as his own....and to my wonderful husband who married me nearly 2 years ago and now calls my 11 children his own. (And no man could ever treat them better or love them more)

I Am My Father's Daughter

Cheri' C. (Bown) Carlson

When I was just a little thing
I was Daddy's little girl
In his eyes I could do no wrong
and he was my childish world
Bedtime stories, silly talks
I was his prize possession
His eyes would shine when he looked at me
Yet I was about to learn a lesson

As I grew, I made mistakes
Daddy's eyes lost that shine
He went away from Mommy and us
I thought the fault was mine
For 30 years I strived to be
Something to make him proud
Nothing I did returned that love
An outcast from the crowd

Never really fitting in
Thus I was torn in two
I had to follow my own beat
Little else would ever do
But to have his approval once again,
His love for who I became
Different from all the rest
And be proud of me just the same

On Father's Day in church one year
I found what I long sought
A Father's love unconditional
Despite what I'd been taught
No need to work and beg for love
It's without limit or care
No matter when or where my needs
I reach and it is there

I feel sorry now for the man I knew
For the years he's missed with me
Yes, I still wish I had his love
And wish I could make him see
That though I'm not like the rest
I'm worth loving and his pride
But I have my Father's love
I've had it all the time

He loves me always for who I am
He doesn??™t want me to hide
He is proud NOW of who I am
He knows what lies inside
No longer Daddy's little girl
Through no fault of mine
Yet I am my Father's daughter
And in His eyes I shine

?©Cheri' C. (Bown) Carlson

one_unicorn@sbcglobal.net

~**~**~

Steps

Cheri' C. (Bown) Carlson

You weren't there the day I came
You didn't share my first breath
You're my Dad with a special name
Some they call you "step"

I've pondered at what "step" could be
Not a step down for sure
For everything a Dad could be
You've been all that and more

With your strong supportive hand
You raised me up when I was down
Encouraged all my dreams
Yet kept my feet close to the ground

You struggled through all the parent things
Trying to teach me wrong from right
Made sure I got breakfast each morning
And tucked me into bed each night

You chose to bring us in your life
And claim us as your own
You worked hard many days and nights
To give us a comfortable home.

No matter how tired you were though
At the end of your long workday
I remember many summer nights
You came out with us to play

You've been both a friend and parent
No Dad could love me more
A step closer to the heavens
Must be what the "step" is for

Cheri' C. Carlson

Cheri' C. Carlson

One_Unicorn26201 @yahoo.com

I'm a 40 year old mother of 13 who despite trials and tears, has found much in life to laugh and love about. I discovered on the internet, an outlet for many thoughts and feelings that the outside world looked down their noses at. There I found acceptance and love.

In sharing my stories about my kids, views on the world, personal experiences and poetry, I also found numerous others who felt like I did. Too unique to be normal. Not comfortable with the way people hid their beautiful selves because of what others might think, I wrote a series of "Love Yourself " articles beginning with "Dare to Be Different".

I have to date written over 100 poems, essays and recently, children's stories, all floating around on the internet. I hope to some day be published.

My husband of 13 months and I live with our 5 kids left at home, here in central Indiana. We dream of going back to my home of West Virginia when the timing is right

Prayer Requests and Updates

Dear Circle,

I just found out that one of our members, Barbara Stewart, went into surgery for an ovarian cyst.

Please hold her in your prayers and loving intentions and lets send her our shared love and light.

Warmly,

Adela

Adela M. Rubio

Do you have the juice to fuel your vision?

http://www.adelarubio.com
http://www.fullyalive.coachville.com

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Agee, Vance;  Apted, Violet;  Baker, Kathy;  Batt, Al;  Berry, Nell;

Boda, Ginger;  Bryant, Sharon;  Buhagiar, Victor; Cassady, B.J.;  Crider, Mark; 

Deming, Barb; Goodier, Steve;  Harris, Kathy Anne; Hunt, Sharlette; 

Jacobson, Gary;  Kiser, Roger Dean; Kerens, Claudia; Jenkins, Pamela;

Liles, Norma;  Mazzella, Joe; Ojeigbe, Georgewaters;

  Petry, Dianna Doles; Roberts, Susan;  Shaw, Bob; Sims, Richard; Swarner, Ken; Vaknin, Sam;

Walker, Bill;  Walker, Joe; Warner, Gorden K;

Whirity, Kathy;  White, Robert;

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