Missed Chances

I've been thinking about my father a lot over the last few months. He died over eleven years ago of Parkinson's Disease at the age of 88. When I was younger, I was convinced that he, a man of a few words, had nothing to teach me, a man of so very many. Yet, at so many times in my life over the years since his departure, I am reminded of his words, and surprisingly, his wisdom. It was a quiet wisdom, but rich with lessons he had learned in life, lessons it seemed it has taken me a long time to learn. I welcome his voice now, and regret not having listened all those years ago.

Missed Chances
Christopher Bogart

I stepped into the ICU,
Pulled the sea green curtain back
And saw a slender form under stark white sheets,
Shrunken,
Still,
Yet breathing steadily.

“Dad” I said softly.

He opened his eyes and looked at me
Without surprise.

“It’s been a long time.” He said,
So matter-of-factly.

It was the truth.
It had been a long time,
Years …

As I stood there,
Staring at him,
I searched for why,
But could not find the answer.

His eyes just rested softly on me,
His lids drooping
Ever so slowly.

“Sleep.” I said softly.
“No.” he replied. “You’ll go away again.”
“No. I won’t. I’ll sit right here until you wake.”

He closed his eyes slowly and slept,
Deeply,
Profoundly.

Later that night, I left
While he still slept
So soft within his dreams.

It seemed that I had missed my chance.

For when I saw him next,
He could no longer speak.
Just stare.

But his voice was in his eyes.

It is that voice that comes to me
Still,
Day after day,
From out of the darkness
Of my own soft dreams.