In Italy it is Fathers' day, Il Giorno del papa, S.Giuseppe,St.Joseph's Day, being the patron saint of fathers.
Fathers will have woken up all over Italy to be greeted by children reciting poems they have learnt specially and home made gifts proudly presented.
Like me with my draw of mother's day gifts my husband has many a card or poem hidden in a draw where we keep our most treasured possessions.
My thoughts have turned to my own father. My earliest memories are of wanting to marry him, of snuggling up to his comforting bulk my head tucked under his chin and feeling safe. In the days when no-one had admitted that smoking was harmful I used to breathe in the wonderful daddy- smell of cigarettes and beer, love the feel of his rough tweedy jacket against my cheek and the warmth of him coming through his shirt. He seemed so solid, and strong, he could turn into a growling bear and romp on the floor where we could jump on him and roll against him, no toy has been invented that could compete with that.
They say you look for a partner like your dad. Well when I realized that I couldn't marry him because my mum already had and things didn't work like that, I knew I wanted to marry someone like him, someone who would make me feel safe and loved like he did, so maybe that's what it means.
There are so many wonderful stories about my dad, I could talk about him all day, but memories of him are precious and more and more I want to keep them to myself. I have a dear friend who sometimes collects me from the airport and we spend the whole car journey home talking about my mum and dad. Neither of us ever tire of talking about them and listening to all our anecdotes. My friend loved them too, he thought they were wonderful.
Every year I used to call my dad on father's day or his birthday as soon as I woke up. The conversation started the same way every year.
me singing 'Happy birthday to you'
him saying ' Do you know what time it is here, you woke me up'.
me 'I just wanted you to know I'm thinking of you.'
him 'I know you're thinking of me, I'm thinking of you too, all the time.'
Then one year I thought I'd wait awhile to give him a chance to wake up. The phone rang, it was him.
'I thought you' d want to wish me a happy birthday.'
My dad would probably think that the song by Bread was a bit of a tear jerker, he'd tell me 'Not to wallow in grief', 'Not to keep looking over my shoulder,' 'cut the cackle and get on with it.' 'You've got things to do, people to look after.' That was the way he lived his life, while everyone was still talking about the best way to do something he' d done it.
Here is my poem for the day dedicated to my dad.
How I wish that I could say
'I'll go and see my dad today.'
I'd smooth his brow
I'd stroke his hair
I'd let him know
how much I care
I'd take his arm
We'd go to town
We'd have a drink
In 'The Rose and Crown'
I'd take his hand
Hold it in mine
He'd have beer
I'd have wine
I would thank him
for all he's done
To show me life
can be great fun
Sure there's pain
and sorrow too
But we love each other
And we'll get through
So here's to my dad
And your dad too
Go and tell him
'I love you.'
|Daddy duck keeping a lookout|