Fallen Giant

Gentle giant, heart of gold,
calloused hammer-sized hands
never raised in anger;
the rock of my shelter in
my youth.
My Father!

How it hurt to watch as
you battled cancer,
your powerful figure
falling from fatigue,
the vomit coming, unbidden,
after chemotherapy.

How it weighed upon me
watching Mom, as
you slipped from her grasp
after 43 years together.
You were our bulwark against
the storm, and now
it was eroding away.

Parades of people passed by,
saying goodbye to you,
remembering your comraderie,
your crooked smile,
the smiles you invoked.
(You'd never met a stranger.)

It's been twenty-five years
since that St. Patrick's Day
that I held your hand and
felt your life slip away.
It became cold and
heavy in that instant --
the instant you gave up pain
for glory!

Yes, it's been twenty-five years, but
I still hear your voice,
still feel the callouses on your
huge, warm hands,
Still feel the love as I basked in
that lop-sided grin.
I still miss you, Dad!

Dallas D'Angelo-Gary 08