My sister, Mary, and I grew up without our father in our lives. We have both lived eighty years, more or less, (I, more…she, less) and still the memory of what we missed haunts each of us. Mary recently put her sorrow into a poignant poem, and with her permission I’m sharing it here.

Lucky Lady

She smiles across the table

Over a cup of tea

Into eyes that have smiled

Back eternally

Does she know how blessed she is

To have her father there

To feel the soft caress

Of his hand upon her hair

I never knew my father

Never had the chance

To sit upon his lap

Feel his arms around me in a dance

Her father’s hair is silver

His hand trembles on his cup

She reaches out to help him

His smiling eyes light up

I close my eyes in sorrow

To have missed so much

To not have a memory

Of my fathers touch

©Mary Frances Martin

To those who have lost their fathers either by death or separation, we feel your pain and pray that you have at least your fondest memories. Unlike my sister, I have vague memories of our father before he left our lives…not by death but by separation, and I treasure the little I have.