Poetry and Storytelling by Kai
WORDS BY KAI. This site is the home of creative expression fueled by passion and inspired by the sparks of a my starlight muse. On these pages you will find my creative voice in lines of poetry, thoughtful essays and commentary, creative storytelling, and in an array of beautiful words to inspire the logophile in us all.
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Learn new words with the Word of the Day and the topic Word Lists. Build your new vocabulary with new words, old words, obscure words and untranslatable words from faraway lands.
THOUGHTS AND COMMENTARY
Commentaries and essays on a variety of topics including parenting, the capacity for love, emotions, mindfulness and social issues.
From Negative to Positive Thought - a Lesson in Grief
Directory - Personal Narrative
My parents left their home in Florida in May 2012 for a trip back home to NJ where they had lived almost their whole lives. My father, who had been ill for a couple of years before, died on this trip. This essay is a culmination of thoughts and feelings that surround the loss of my father and how I navigated a windy path of introspection to come to terms with his passing. I wrote this on the eve of Father’s Day 6 years later and my path has lead to peace and only love for the man who was my father.
I hadn’t seen my father for two months because we moved a couple of hours south and we busy dealing with a new home, job and life. I last saw him in the beginning of March but I talked to him frequently. I kept in touch while he was away. While he was in NJ his failing health got worse and he was admitted to the hospital. I talked to him on the phone but he was not one to talk about his health or how he felt. We talked about normal things. He sounded good and strong over the line and I could tell he was trying to mask the severity of the issues to spare me concern. I was very busy and didn’t see the truth with my own eyes and I wasn’t updated by anyone to how bad it really was.
I wondered if I should go to NJ to see him but with my husband working I had no one to help with the kids. That decision no longer became mine to make. One night the phone rang while we were getting the kids to bed. It was my twin brother and I vividly remember the crack in his voice when he told me I had to come immediately because we were going to lose him. I didn’t panic or get upset. I was confused at first because nobody told me how bad it was. I wasn’t kept in the loop and this at first made me angry then I realized they were saying he was going to die very soon. I didn’t panic or get emotional I got active. I got online and booked a flight for me and my son for the next morning, packed our bags, and then stoically stared at the clock until it was time to leave. I was in action mode and I blocked my emotions to do what I had to do. Get to my father in time to say goodbye, tell him I loved him and most importantly thank him for being my father. My goals and I would do anything to make them happen.
We made it to Raleigh NC and then had to wait an hour for a connection to Newark. My son was thirsty so we went into Burger King and got to the fountain soda bar. I distinctly remember the moment I was dispensing the drink because it was then that I let myself feel a bit of the emotions of what was happening. I remember the heaviness of the ice in the cup and the sound of the Sprite splashing into it. I remember putting the top on and pushing in the straw. But I’ll never forget the vibration of the phone in my hand, the false bravado of my voice when I said hello, and the gentle words whispered from my husband saying “he’s gone.”
I dropped the full soda on the floor and my knees started to buckle. My young son was startled and clung to my leg. I dragged us over to the closest seat before I fell over. It is very difficult for me to cry and I rarely do it but as I registered what had happened I unleashed a volume of tears I never knew I was capable of. People stared at me, my son looked stricken at my behavior, and I started to panic when I realized I was losing control of myself. The minutes dragged on and I remember staring at the world going on around me. My beloved father was gone from this world and yet it still spun. Nobody around me cared and I was alone in a grief I have never felt and couldn’t comprehend.
When I reigned myself in all I could think was that I failed him. I was on my way, hundreds of miles away from home already and just another quick flight to go. I was coming to his side and I was going to tell him I loved him and more importantly I was going to thank him for giving me the best father I could have ever had. I was going to tell him how much he meant to me, how much I valued all that he did for me, and how grateful I was. I failed in all of that. I was too late. I was too fucking late and he never heard my words or felt my hand in his or the last embrace from a little girl to her daddy. All my life my father was always there for me and never let me down. I felt like I let him down. He loved me and cared for me and protected me. But I was too late. He knew I was coming but I was too late. And the world kept spinning around me as I cried. I remember the smell of greasy French fries, the sound of a gritty voice behind me arguing with a heavy jersey accent, the noise the loudspeaker announcing flights and the glare of the bright restaurant lights. The world kept spinning but now it spun without my dad. I was so alone with only a child clinging to me and breaking down among strangers in an intense emotional scene. I needed to get my head straight but I couldn’t think. The loud noises and the bright lights and the crowded restaurant where breaking me down. Until they weren’t. I had a break in my pain when my little son crawled up into my lap and put his head on my shoulder and his hand on my heart. My tears stopped, my panic subsided, and my mind cleared. I wrapped my arms around his little body and I got up and carried us both to the nearest ticket counter for seats on the next plane back to Florida. Taking action was the only thing I could do.
In the days that followed I allowed myself to grieve but I was back in action mode. I got the four of us ready to fly to NJ for the funeral. I remember buying a dress shirt for my husband, packing the beautiful princess dress my parents gave my daughter for Christmas, and then pulling my own black dress out of my closet even though my Dad would have told me to wear red.
We flew to Newark and were headed to my oldest brother’s house in upstate NY. It was late and so quiet in the car and I was alone with my thoughts. This would be the first time my family would meet my husband and kids. I remember thinking how wrong that was and it was only because I moved away from everyone. I left home in 1997. A long time ago. And time passed with life always too hectic to make a trip back home. Now was not the time to reflect on my life choices. So I let that go and tried to think positively even in my anxiety of seeing my father in a coffin and then watching them bury him forever. I turned my thoughts to circumstance.
I left home in 97 at 23 and only saw my parents once or twice a year. When I was truly settled in Florida they surprised me by moving to Florida to be near me. I had 7 years with my father that I never would have had if they didn’t move. I left home a child but now I was a grown woman. Relationships with kids change when they grow up- I got lucky that I had them close by so I could be with them as an adult and not a moody child.
For the first time since I was 23 I had my parents present in my life. Holidays, dinners, meeting Dad for lunch in his favorite restaurant. I had major life changes and they were with me. My father was there to pick me up after my divorce and get me situated in a new life. He was also there to stand up for me and sign my marriage certificate as a witness when I eloped with my husband in a wedding attended by only our parents. He was there when I brought home both my children and he came to love those kids fiercely. When we left for a job contract for 9 months and came back unemployed and homeless he negotiated the rental of the house behind his. When my husband left me temporarily with a toddler and a newborn for a contract out of state he was the one who changed the batteries in the smoke alarm and came over in the middle of the night because I thought a burglar was breaking in. He did it without laughing at me when it turned out to be a cat. Anything I needed he was there.
We crossed the state line in NY in the dark of night and while we wound our rental up a mountain I thought more rationally. I was reflecting on what he did for me when I should have been thinking of what I did for him to show him I loved him. I was lucky to have my parents in my life so I made time for them. I was there for my father whenever he needed me. When he started getting sick I helped care for him. I dressed his wounds, took his blood pressure, and I took him to the doctor. I made him meals and made sure he ate enough, cleaned the litter box of his beloved cat, and I got his mail so he wouldn’t have to walk to the mailbox. I always had a smile for him no matter how hard it was to watch him struggle to walk or dress. He always had a smile for me even though he felt bad and his big smiles were the biggest when I brought him his favorites from Wendy’s for dinner instead of the bland food his diet called for or sneaked him another scoop of ice cream when my mom wasn’t looking.
By the time we pulled in my brother’s driveway I was forgiving myself for being late. I was too late to say goodbye to him but I wasn’t late with the words I needed to say because I said them already. He knew I loved him because I told him and I showed him. He felt my affection by a hug and kiss when I saw him and when I left. He knew I appreciated him, respected him and cared for him with the little things In life we don’t think about. Most importantly he knew how how much I valued his thoughts, ideas and advice because of our long conversations, the life lessons he taught me all the time, and how I took his lessons and implemented them in my life. As we parked the car and started walking to the door I felt a smile on my face for the first time in a week. I let go of my anxiety, fear and heartbreak. I slept for the first time in a week. And the next day I walked into his service with my head held high, my selfish emotions in check and focused only on paying tribute to my father. Instead of breaking down next to his coffin I knelt there and whispered all I wanted to say. I didn’t care how long I was there because I had a lot to say. My mother and I were the last ones to see him before they closed the coffin. I finally said goodbye.
There were no tears at the cemetery because I felt he deserved more than that from me. He deserved honor. There was one moment when I was overcome with emotion. He received full military honors at the gravesite with the presence of two uniformed naval officers. Their ceremonial presentation was full of class and dignity- both attributes I associated with my father. Their final flag presentation to my mother was deeply moving and I think everyone felt a collective sense of respect for him and his life. I felt honored to have been his daughter. I felt proud of him and all that he was. I left the ceremony that day with my thoughts not on his loss but on a lifetime of the memories of a father I will never forget.
It was six years ago last month that my father has been gone. I wrote this essay to convey my feelings on the eve before another Father’s Day without him. I decided to write this while I was at the store with the kids picking out a card for their daddy. I felt a pang at not buying a card for mine but I realized I honor him everyday by living a life that was was formed by the lessons he taught, the values he instilled, and the knowledge he passed on. As his children we carry his voice with all that we do and I am proud to say that we are passing it along in our own children.
I dedicate this to my dad. I miss you.
I hadn’t seen my father for two months because we moved a couple of hours south and we busy dealing with a new home, job and life. I last saw him in the beginning of March but I talked to him frequently. I kept in touch while he was away. While he was in NJ his failing health got worse and he was admitted to the hospital. I talked to him on the phone but he was not one to talk about his health or how he felt. We talked about normal things. He sounded good and strong over the line and I could tell he was trying to mask the severity of the issues to spare me concern. I was very busy and didn’t see the truth with my own eyes and I wasn’t updated by anyone to how bad it really was.
I wondered if I should go to NJ to see him but with my husband working I had no one to help with the kids. That decision no longer became mine to make. One night the phone rang while we were getting the kids to bed. It was my twin brother and I vividly remember the crack in his voice when he told me I had to come immediately because we were going to lose him. I didn’t panic or get upset. I was confused at first because nobody told me how bad it was. I wasn’t kept in the loop and this at first made me angry then I realized they were saying he was going to die very soon. I didn’t panic or get emotional I got active. I got online and booked a flight for me and my son for the next morning, packed our bags, and then stoically stared at the clock until it was time to leave. I was in action mode and I blocked my emotions to do what I had to do. Get to my father in time to say goodbye, tell him I loved him and most importantly thank him for being my father. My goals and I would do anything to make them happen.
We made it to Raleigh NC and then had to wait an hour for a connection to Newark. My son was thirsty so we went into Burger King and got to the fountain soda bar. I distinctly remember the moment I was dispensing the drink because it was then that I let myself feel a bit of the emotions of what was happening. I remember the heaviness of the ice in the cup and the sound of the Sprite splashing into it. I remember putting the top on and pushing in the straw. But I’ll never forget the vibration of the phone in my hand, the false bravado of my voice when I said hello, and the gentle words whispered from my husband saying “he’s gone.”
I dropped the full soda on the floor and my knees started to buckle. My young son was startled and clung to my leg. I dragged us over to the closest seat before I fell over. It is very difficult for me to cry and I rarely do it but as I registered what had happened I unleashed a volume of tears I never knew I was capable of. People stared at me, my son looked stricken at my behavior, and I started to panic when I realized I was losing control of myself. The minutes dragged on and I remember staring at the world going on around me. My beloved father was gone from this world and yet it still spun. Nobody around me cared and I was alone in a grief I have never felt and couldn’t comprehend.
When I reigned myself in all I could think was that I failed him. I was on my way, hundreds of miles away from home already and just another quick flight to go. I was coming to his side and I was going to tell him I loved him and more importantly I was going to thank him for giving me the best father I could have ever had. I was going to tell him how much he meant to me, how much I valued all that he did for me, and how grateful I was. I failed in all of that. I was too late. I was too fucking late and he never heard my words or felt my hand in his or the last embrace from a little girl to her daddy. All my life my father was always there for me and never let me down. I felt like I let him down. He loved me and cared for me and protected me. But I was too late. He knew I was coming but I was too late. And the world kept spinning around me as I cried. I remember the smell of greasy French fries, the sound of a gritty voice behind me arguing with a heavy jersey accent, the noise the loudspeaker announcing flights and the glare of the bright restaurant lights. The world kept spinning but now it spun without my dad. I was so alone with only a child clinging to me and breaking down among strangers in an intense emotional scene. I needed to get my head straight but I couldn’t think. The loud noises and the bright lights and the crowded restaurant where breaking me down. Until they weren’t. I had a break in my pain when my little son crawled up into my lap and put his head on my shoulder and his hand on my heart. My tears stopped, my panic subsided, and my mind cleared. I wrapped my arms around his little body and I got up and carried us both to the nearest ticket counter for seats on the next plane back to Florida. Taking action was the only thing I could do.
In the days that followed I allowed myself to grieve but I was back in action mode. I got the four of us ready to fly to NJ for the funeral. I remember buying a dress shirt for my husband, packing the beautiful princess dress my parents gave my daughter for Christmas, and then pulling my own black dress out of my closet even though my Dad would have told me to wear red.
We flew to Newark and were headed to my oldest brother’s house in upstate NY. It was late and so quiet in the car and I was alone with my thoughts. This would be the first time my family would meet my husband and kids. I remember thinking how wrong that was and it was only because I moved away from everyone. I left home in 1997. A long time ago. And time passed with life always too hectic to make a trip back home. Now was not the time to reflect on my life choices. So I let that go and tried to think positively even in my anxiety of seeing my father in a coffin and then watching them bury him forever. I turned my thoughts to circumstance.
I left home in 97 at 23 and only saw my parents once or twice a year. When I was truly settled in Florida they surprised me by moving to Florida to be near me. I had 7 years with my father that I never would have had if they didn’t move. I left home a child but now I was a grown woman. Relationships with kids change when they grow up- I got lucky that I had them close by so I could be with them as an adult and not a moody child.
For the first time since I was 23 I had my parents present in my life. Holidays, dinners, meeting Dad for lunch in his favorite restaurant. I had major life changes and they were with me. My father was there to pick me up after my divorce and get me situated in a new life. He was also there to stand up for me and sign my marriage certificate as a witness when I eloped with my husband in a wedding attended by only our parents. He was there when I brought home both my children and he came to love those kids fiercely. When we left for a job contract for 9 months and came back unemployed and homeless he negotiated the rental of the house behind his. When my husband left me temporarily with a toddler and a newborn for a contract out of state he was the one who changed the batteries in the smoke alarm and came over in the middle of the night because I thought a burglar was breaking in. He did it without laughing at me when it turned out to be a cat. Anything I needed he was there.
We crossed the state line in NY in the dark of night and while we wound our rental up a mountain I thought more rationally. I was reflecting on what he did for me when I should have been thinking of what I did for him to show him I loved him. I was lucky to have my parents in my life so I made time for them. I was there for my father whenever he needed me. When he started getting sick I helped care for him. I dressed his wounds, took his blood pressure, and I took him to the doctor. I made him meals and made sure he ate enough, cleaned the litter box of his beloved cat, and I got his mail so he wouldn’t have to walk to the mailbox. I always had a smile for him no matter how hard it was to watch him struggle to walk or dress. He always had a smile for me even though he felt bad and his big smiles were the biggest when I brought him his favorites from Wendy’s for dinner instead of the bland food his diet called for or sneaked him another scoop of ice cream when my mom wasn’t looking.
By the time we pulled in my brother’s driveway I was forgiving myself for being late. I was too late to say goodbye to him but I wasn’t late with the words I needed to say because I said them already. He knew I loved him because I told him and I showed him. He felt my affection by a hug and kiss when I saw him and when I left. He knew I appreciated him, respected him and cared for him with the little things In life we don’t think about. Most importantly he knew how how much I valued his thoughts, ideas and advice because of our long conversations, the life lessons he taught me all the time, and how I took his lessons and implemented them in my life. As we parked the car and started walking to the door I felt a smile on my face for the first time in a week. I let go of my anxiety, fear and heartbreak. I slept for the first time in a week. And the next day I walked into his service with my head held high, my selfish emotions in check and focused only on paying tribute to my father. Instead of breaking down next to his coffin I knelt there and whispered all I wanted to say. I didn’t care how long I was there because I had a lot to say. My mother and I were the last ones to see him before they closed the coffin. I finally said goodbye.
There were no tears at the cemetery because I felt he deserved more than that from me. He deserved honor. There was one moment when I was overcome with emotion. He received full military honors at the gravesite with the presence of two uniformed naval officers. Their ceremonial presentation was full of class and dignity- both attributes I associated with my father. Their final flag presentation to my mother was deeply moving and I think everyone felt a collective sense of respect for him and his life. I felt honored to have been his daughter. I felt proud of him and all that he was. I left the ceremony that day with my thoughts not on his loss but on a lifetime of the memories of a father I will never forget.
It was six years ago last month that my father has been gone. I wrote this essay to convey my feelings on the eve before another Father’s Day without him. I decided to write this while I was at the store with the kids picking out a card for their daddy. I felt a pang at not buying a card for mine but I realized I honor him everyday by living a life that was was formed by the lessons he taught, the values he instilled, and the knowledge he passed on. As his children we carry his voice with all that we do and I am proud to say that we are passing it along in our own children.
I dedicate this to my dad. I miss you.
STARLIGHT POETRY BY KAI
View Me on Twitter @kairosoflife
See Creativity Chaos - a Creativity Blog by Kai
About | Reprints & Copyrights | Home
© 2019-2020 Copyright Starlight Poetry
VIEW FULL SITE DIRECTORY
View Me on Twitter @kairosoflife
See Creativity Chaos - a Creativity Blog by Kai
About | Reprints & Copyrights | Home
© 2019-2020 Copyright Starlight Poetry
VIEW FULL SITE DIRECTORY