So be perfect . . .

This poem was written by me for my father and he died just after my Mom read it to him. It was written years ago and I had been waiting for the right time to give it to him. My husband read it at my father's funeral. I think it was one of the hardest things he had ever done. He was so brave and I was so proud of him.

So be perfect, just as your heavenly Father is perfect. Matthew 5:48

You may not have been perfect,
But to me you were the perfect Father.

You may not have been there at the very moment of my arrival,
But through your life you showed me what a wonderful world this is.

You got angry, but you taught me how to apologize,
And how to forgive.

You did not hand me everything I wanted,
But you provided everything I needed.

You held my hand tightly,
And taught me security.

You released my heart,
And taught me joy.

You gave to others,
And I learned compassion.

You sacrificed,
And I learned the value of the gift of one’s self.

You risked your life for freedom,
And I learned that there are things worth dying for.

You showed me patience,
And I learned the value of a job well done.

You taught me to be independent,
And I learned what true freedom was.

You declared that God was in control,
And taught me the value of surrender.

You loved my Mother,
And taught me the beauty of commitment and dedication.

You gave me love,
And taught me hope.

You showed me integrity,
And I learned to speak up for what I believed was right.

You showed me wisdom,
And I gained faith.

You prayed,
And I learned to seek Truth.

You showed me that it is ok to grieve those we loved,
And to laugh in the process.

You hugged me tightly,
And I learned to hug back.

You cried,
And I learned that it was ok to let go.

You were yourself,
And I looked for a husband just like you.

You walked me down the aisle,
And I learned that you’ll always be there at my side.

You prayed to be perfect as your Father in heaven,
And brought me a taste of that heaven here on earth.

You were my perfect Father,
And I love you.

(C) 2003 by author. All rights reserved.

My father had been catatonic for days, but as my mother read the last line of my poem my father sort of sat up a little and made a noise, she thought he heard us. Many months later I realized that what had in fact happened was that he had taken his last breath. Perhaps he did hear us. I don't know. But I do know he loved us. In the end that is all that matters.

Having been out to sea for my confirmation he had promised to be at my Oblature. I know he won't miss it.