Holding Hands

The prompt today was to write about something small. Who knew that this is what would emerge. I hope this isn’t too dark for you, dear readers. And the only other thing I can say to you is, treasure your fathers, most of you are luckier than you know.

Holding Hands

My tiny hand
resting in yours
trusting you,
loving you,
knowing that
as my father
you will be there with me
through the trial of my life.

My childish hand
grasping yours.
We live alone, now
my brother, and father
and me
and we know
daddy will be there
to take care
of us.

Until the day
the policeman knocked
and took our little hands
and tore us away
from you,
my father,
and I cried
as we went to
my mother’s car
and begged to go back
to your loving arms
and at the car window
I said, “I’ll never see you
again.”

And I was right,
unless you count
the six other times I saw you
until the day of your
funeral
thirty-six years later.

And my woman’s hand
rests on your cold hands
for the last time.

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13 thoughts on “Holding Hands

  1. OH. I am breathless, Diana.
    Wow. This is powerful, gut-wrenching stuff.
    Makes me want to call my Daddy, and hug my hubbie.
    Excellent, painful write, my friend. Hugs, and gratitude.

    • My father passed away at age 64 in 2004, but he had never allowed us kids to know where he was. Now we know, but it all feels too late. Regret is a terrible emotion, but I regret his actions for all those years because I never got to know the man he was, adult-to-adult. I don’t know your story, but I hope you got to know your dad. I am so sorry for your loss.

      • Thanks that’s appreciated. Yes I saw him through the week over the final years that he was with us as he deteriorated. I’m sorry to hear what you say here. I haven’t seen my mother for years and don’t know where she is and you can see where that is heading.

        • I know that I tried to find my father but did not succeed, so the fact that he did not see us is on his head. It’s still hurtful, but I am grateful that I had made the effort. I would encourage you to do the same, if only for your own peace of mind. Hope for the best, and prepare for the worst, I suppose. Best of luck to you.

    • I know I will heal eventually, but every year around father’s day, the old questions surface and the old hurt comes out. Sorry to make you sad, Janice, but thank you for reading. ❤

    • I always say, you can’t choose your own parents, but you can choose your childrens’ parents, i.e., you can do better for your kids than your folks did for you. I, personally, would walk through fire and fight tigers for my kids. It is baffling to me how my father could ignore us for so many years.

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