Wednesday, June 24, 2015

 
 
 
My dearest Pops.
 
 He taught me to have pride. In myself. In my language.
To have pride in the way I treat others.
And still have conviction of my ideas, beliefs, thoughts.
He loved me without borders, without end. I never had any doubt.
My dads last thoughts were taken in his back yard. At his pond.
 The place he loved to be most of all.
He had just been sitting with my wonderful mom. His wife of 54 years.
With the beautiful blue kind sweet eyes that he noticed always.
They sat on the front porch.
He had mowed his yard a few days before.

Off you go, Pops. No more back aches. No more head aches.
 No more darn doctors telling you what to do. 

  I believe Heaven is a place of our favorite things. Including feeders to be filled. 
 Flower beds to be added. And even leaky things to be fixed.
So you feel accomplished before finding a swing to nap on.

 God has been good to me. The best of parents has been only one way.
They took me to church. They taught me what I needed to know.
And they loved my husband, Terry, though some know him as Tom.
They exampled for me. And everyone around them.
 
 People often mistakenly think my parents are perfect. No, they aren't.
Which is exactly what makes them the most perfect parents.
Getting thru the mistakes. The bad times.
And still wanting to be sitting together on the front porch.
 Talking about flowers. Whats for dinner. Zoee. The family. 

"Do you hear that?
Cant you hear it?
My swing is calling me."
 
 
Edward John Kinsella
20 May 1938 - 13 May 2015
 
His dash was well used.